Bad Habits
by CrisisOmegs
Summary: Everyone's got bad habits. Butters can't stop blaming himself whenever something goes wrong, and Stan can't stop daydreaming about shirtless men. Stan/Butters; Stutters, multi-chapter. Try some new pairings, it's good for ya health.
1. Everything Starts Going to Hell

**Hey guyssss! Thanks for reading, here's a Stutters multi-chapter fic. There aren't really any of these, so it's a treat for all you underfed fans out there. :D Please review, fave, whatevah you want. There's gonna be three pairings in this fic, though the third is barely hinted at throughout and I might take it out altogether if I don't want to deal with it. If you can guess all three, you get a pat on the back.**

* * *

At thirteen, Stan Marsh realized something about himself that he wished he hadn't.

He was watching The Fifth Element with his friends on a Friday night. Kenny was raiding the fridge; Cartman and Kyle were bickering and flinging insults back and forth. Stan was pretty sure he was the only one paying attention to the movie. But he felt warmth radiating from the room, as all the tension any of the boys felt at school or with family deteriorated into the relaxed scene in his living room. He sunk deeper into his couch, a familiar sinking. Oh, the wonders of routine.

Milla Jovovich came on screen, and when Kenny returned to the living room with a jug of milk and a box of cookies in hand, his eyes opened wide while he moved his eyebrows up and down suggestively.

"Hubba hubba," he growled, sighing with relief as he collapsed next to the other boys. "What I wouldn't give for a night with her." He stared lustfully at the screen, munching cookie after cookie ferociously.

While Kenny was fixated on said female form, and Kyle and Cartman continued with their slander like a broken record, Stan considered this statement.

"Yeah, she's ok."

Kenny all but choked on his snack, though no one would have made a big deal out of it even if he had.

"What are you, a fag? She's a babe!"

"Oh. Well, she's just not my type I guess."

Cartman shoved Kyle in the face before adding to the conversation.

"What the fuck, Kenny? Stan's right, she's got fucking orange hair in this goddamn movie. She might as well be a daywalker."

"Fuck you, fatass! You're half-ginger yourself, asshole!"

"Suck my balls, Kahl."

Then Kenny kept eating, Cartman and Kyle kept fighting, and Stan went back to watching the movie.

Five hours later, at four o'clock in the morning, Stan woke up suddenly. He shot up straight in bed, blue eyes wide as the full moon and mind focused completely on the strange realization that had just hit him, like he'd gotten smacked in the face with an aluminum baseball bat.

"HOLY SHIT, I'M GAY!"

Because it wasn't just Milla Jovovich from the Fifth Element that Stan didn't find attractive. It was also Sigourney Weaver from Alien and Linda Hamilton from Terminator and all the other 'hot babes' from all the other movies he'd ever seen. And a certain schizophrenic heartthrob had been ridiculously hot in Donnie Darko. He started taking deep breaths to calm himself down, heart beating fast. He looked around his room for his teddy bear.

Stan heard movement coming from the other room, his parents turning on the light, and he froze. His eyes still betrayed a look of complete and utter desperation. He prayed to sweet Jesus that they hadn't heard the words he'd screamed.

A knock on his bedroom door. "Stan, honey, are you okay? I thought I heard shouting," came his mother's concerned voice from the hallway.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Bad dream, I guess." His clammy palms shook as his body began perspiring.

"Ok, well, you sleep well, sweetie."

"Yeah, sure."

When he heard her steps fading and he saw the small line of light under his door disappear, Stan wrapped himself in a fortress of blankets. Maybe if he overheated himself under all that material, he could convince himself that the thick, heavy cloth was the reason he was sweating so much. Instead of providing a haven for his thoughts, Stan began feeling smothered and suffocated. He pushed the blankets off of his face, feeling cold air fill his body as he breathed in deeply. It stung. He had stopped looking for his teddy bear, because it was totally gay to be sleeping with a childhood memento at thirteen.

There was no getting sleep that night, as a nervous feeling pervaded his mind and body. And it didn't stop; his heart sunk from his chest down lower, past his stomach and waist, and nestled itself in the corner of his little toe, before slowly dissolving. The anxiety wouldn't leave; no sign of relief appeared to alleviate his worries. Could it even be compared to the tranquil sinking he'd felt earlier this evening, face nuzzled against the soft fabric of a familiar couch? Perhaps a better term to use would be dragging; his heart being dragged slowly through his body.

Most of all, Stan was upset that one of the biggest moments in his life had to come about in such a comical fashion. Yelling in the middle of the night, expletive and all. Screw that.

But he got out of bed the next morning and started his day like normal; after all, nothing had really changed, had it? He'd been born gay, and maybe he'd been acting like it forever. A sharp pain shot through his head at the thought, like someone had come up behind him and stabbed a needle through his brain, pinpointing the lobe or whatever it was that made him keep thinking about this. _No no, _the needle was telling him,_ you can't keep thinking like this, Stan. Someone's going to notice. They have to notice. Unless you can hide it._ So of course, he hid it. He hid it under porno magazines and Wendy Testaburger and trips to Raisins with friends. He hid it under football and Call of Duty and horrible action movies.

And years later, at sixteen, Stan Marsh came to the conclusion that when hiding a secret, three years is too many.

* * *

Butters Stotch didn't feel the need for revelations, not the kind Stan had experienced. He told everyone he was gay as soon as he hit sixteen, and they told him they already knew. They had been telling him he was a fag since the first day they met him. _Everybody_ had. They treated him the same, for which he was grateful. Although they'd never treated him very well in the first place.

There was only one major difference Butters noticed afterwards; his parents. He first started noticing on a school night in early winter, and his mother had made corn bread and pork chops. They ate in silence, like they had started doing a few months ago. Butters hadn't given it much thought until that night.

As he reached a thin hand over the table, attempting to grab the salt shaker, his hand brushed his fathers'. Mr. Stotch retracted his arm, placing it quickly out of sight. He kept it there, hand clenched in a fist by his side, while dinner continued.

They wouldn't touch him. They looked at him and smiled at him, asked him how his day was and what his plans were for the week. But when he talked with them, they were stiff and uncomfortable. Most of all Butters wanted to call to them affectionately, Mom and Dad, he'd say, and they would all go out to Bennigan's. Like it should be. But they just keeping saying less and less and less.

He was frustrated. So one night at dinner, he set the table so only he could reach the salt shaker. It was pork chops again. He waited patiently for his father to ask him, please pass the salt Butters, and their hands would brush. He waited. His father always wanted salt on his pork chops.

Butters sat up straight in his high back chair. The room was decorated regally, the carpet opulent and the chandelier hanging low. The austere grandfather clock ticked loudly. The seconds passed, and the properness of the room started to overwhelm him. He felt nauseous. His father wasn't asking for the salt, and the room was looming over him, as if saying, see, look how proper, how grandiose. _There's nothing gay about this at all. If we can sit here quietly with a grandfather clock, there won't be anything gay about this family at all._

"Don't you want the salt?" Butters said, louder than he'd intended. He saw his father's body tense up, and the man's eyes drifted over to the shaker where it was held in his son's tiny, feminine fingers.

"No, I'm fine, thank you for asking," Mr. Stotch replied. His face remained blank as he continued eating.

Butters felt his heart speed up, pounding against his ribcage. Suddenly he imagined a gruesome image of his father, face still emotionless, ripping apart Butters' chest and cracking his ribcage to free the heart, so Butters couldn't feel anything for anyone anymore. Not loving people at all, even that would be better than…

"You want the salt. You want it I know you do, you must," Butters begged, and he felt moisture creep into his eyes and drip onto his face, onto his plate. He stood up, salt shaker in trembling hand, and ran to his father's chair. He reached hopefully to grab the strong, manly palm sitting on the table. When Butters grasped his father's hand, he felt blissful at the contact he'd needed for so long. It didn't last.

_SMACK._

He was on the ground, face pressed against the soft, fancy carpet, blond hair disheveled. In shock, he gingerly touched the sore spot on his cheek. He felt his eye twitch. He fixed his gaze on the floor, mind working itself to the bone trying to find an excuse as to why this had happened. Because his father still loved him.

Butters turned, face hot, to see Mr. Stotch sit back down at the grand table. Light glinted off the silverware, sparkling. _As long as we sit at this table and we eat in this room, with stately walls and expensive trimmings, these kinds of exchanges don't happen in the Stotch household. There is nothing wrong with this family_.

"Butters, sit down and eat your dinner."

Butters could tell his parents were pretending that nothing had changed. But he knew, from the way his mother stayed silent and shuddering, that they would remember.

His father had hit him, hard, slapped him across the cheek with his right hand. Now the man with his neatly combed, brown hair, with his shirt tucked in carefully and any harsh sentiments gone from his features before Butters could see them, wiped that same hand off on his well-ironed pants. While Butters lay, palms sweating and tears leaking out in a stream, blond, messy hair askew.

A few months later, that scene was still replaying in Butters' mind. It gave new meaning to the word 'shame'.

* * *

September was fast approaching. The crisp sound of crunching leaves under foot was only a month away. The intoxicating laziness of late summer lingered only until nightfall, when the winds turned colder and the air could chill a person to the bone. The first months of their junior year in high school would follow the familiar progression from brilliant sunshine beckoning just outside of the classroom windows to foreboding autumn weather.

Butters was hoping for things to change; he was hoping for a new group of friends who appreciated him, and classes that wouldn't leave him so gosh-darned stressed out. He was hoping for a repaired relationship with his parents. And he was hoping for a boyfriend, maybe, if he were lucky, it would be… Just the idea of someone holding him close and whispering, huskily, _Butters._ But he wasn't expecting much of anything. And most of all…

Stan was hoping for things to stay the same; he was hoping to stay comfortable with his best friends, and for his streak of mediocre grades to continue. He was hoping to maintain his regular teen relationship with his mom and dad. And he was hoping to get back together with Wendy Testaburger. For the sake of keeping his reputation, of course. His attempts to stop daydreaming about shirtless men in class had failed him last spring. And most of all…

Mashing together his fists…

Pinching the bridge of his nose…

"S-shucks, I just feel so—"

"God, I'm so fucking—"

_Lonely._

_

* * *

_

"…And I just can't believe my first love won't be around, and I'm like baby, baby, baby, OOOOHH—"

"Kenny, I swear to god if you don't fucking turn that off—"

"BABY BABY BABY OOOOHHH—"

"STOP SINGING!"

Kenny threw his head back, laughing, and cranked up the volume. Justin Bieber's sickeningly sweet voice pumped through the car, causing the old piece-of-shit vehicle to shake with the beat. Kenny said he'd gotten the automobile out of a junkyard somewhere, but Stan knew if he looked hard enough he'd find someone missing a 1999 Dodge Ram van.

"Dude, Stan, if you were really sick of my musical preferences, you wouldn't get rides with me anymore!" Kenny yelled over the music, slamming his foot on the gas. Both were pressed against their seats as the van lurched forwards.

Music at full volume, going about twenty miles over the speed limit, and Kenny hadn't once been pulled over since Stan started getting rides to school with him last winter. Kenny said it was because sometimes God felt bad for killing him off every week or so, so he'd given him total immunity against cops.

"Does it look like I have a choice? Kyle's still only got his permit and there's no way in hell Cartman would give me a ride every morning! I just have to fuckin' wait until I save up for a car!"

Stan looked around the car angrily, gesturing wildly.

"And you never clean this car, either! Five MacDonald's bags? CD's scattered all over the backseats?" Stan groaned, exasperated, and pointed to the cup holder. "An _open beer bottle_?"

Kenny looked over quickly and smiled like an idiot. "Oh, sweet! Forgot this was here!" He took a sip before making a disgusted face. "Blegh, warm beer."

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, leaning back in his seat. Kenny happily patted his friend on the head, and then playfully pinched his cheek.

"There, there, my little Stanley, we're here already!"

Stan blushed slightly before furrowing his brows and pushing Kenny's hand away. He hated riding with Kenny because he played shitty music and his car smelt like a homeless person. And maybe because Kenny was such a flirt. God, could he just stop with the 'my little Stanley' bullshit?

The two got out of the car and Kenny took off running towards the school. He looked back at Stan, grinned, and said, "C'mon, I bet I can beat you there!"

Stan shook his head but started smiling. For someone who could easily trip and crack his head open on the pavement at any moment, Kenny sure threw caution to the wind. Stan didn't exactly _remember_ any of Kenny's deaths, but the scrawny teen was always recounting the fatal stabs, bullets, and cuts he had gotten over the years. Everybody learned to accept it, even if most probably didn't believe it.

Eventually Stan and Kenny met up with Cartman and Kyle, who'd already found each other.

"Aw, fucking shit! You're taking my German class too? Doesn't that go against your Jew code or something?"

"Oh my god, Fatass, I swear that you're the stupidest person I've ever met. For the last time, not all Germans are Nazis!"

"… Well they should be!"

"Ok, break it up ladies," Kenny interrupted, forcing himself between the bickering pair. The two continued to glare at each other until Kyle noticed Stan, and his face lit up immediately. Cartman crossed his arms, rolling his eyes. The fatass nudged Kenny and made gestures that Stan assumed had something to do with him and Kyle being fags. Next to the slender, short Kenny, Cartman looked enormous. The name 'Fatass' would haunt him until he left South Park, but he'd shed his childhood fat in favor of a football player's physique (perhaps courtesy of a certain Denver Bronco?) and a height of at least six feet two. And he certainly used that to his advantage; Stan could remember multiple times when the asshole, who had several inches on all of them, had held Kyle's ushanka high over his head and watched the Jew jump for it. Needless to say, Kyle had ditched the hat sophomore year until he got too self-conscious about his hair after a few months.

"Hey dude, did you get your schedule?" Kyle asked, obviously excited. "I've got first period German," he winced, "but then second period is chemistry, third is math…" The ginger ran his hand through his hair the way he did when he was really anxious.

Stan internally rolled his eyes; after sixteen years, his best friend still had a total boner for learning. He gazed down at his own schedule and they started comparing classes.

"Oh, cool! It looks like we have second period together," Stan exclaimed, grabbing Kyle by the shoulder and pointing down to the piece of paper. He and Kyle's relationship had attained 'brother' status years ago; touching never made either uncomfortable. As gay as he was, Stan had never pictured himself in bed with his best friend. Ok, maybe once or twice, but there really was nothing there, honest. The bizarre idea of dating the guy he'd known for his entire life gave Stan a bad feeling in his mouth.

"Wait wait wait, you mean I've got chem with both of the butt buddies? Great. Thank god Kenny's there to balance out the gayness. Bring your Playboys, Ken, we're gonna need 'em."

"Shut up, fatass," Kyle spat. Since no elaborate insults about mothers or Jews followed, Stan figured that the two were done until at least lunch.

"We've all got class together? That's pretty sweet," Stan said, considering the pros of the situation. "We'll all have lab partners." Everyone knew their teacher's policy on labs—a new partner every term, no doubling up allowed.

Kyle gave him a sympathetic look and dragged him over to the side of the hallway. Kenny and Cartman continued their plan on how to get pornographic materials into chemistry without the teacher noticing; the casual comment had turned into a full-scale challenge. They made a bet that Kenny couldn't get away with it every day for a month.

"Stan," Kyle began, using the motherly tone he reserved for matters of grave importance. "Wendy's in that class, too, I heard her talking to Bebe about it. I could totally find another partner if you wanted to pair up with her."

Stan opened his mouth to protest, but then considered the offer.

"Dude, it's only for the first term. Like, a month or two. It'll be fine if things don't work out; I'll be partners with Jimmy first term, and then you and me can partner up for second term," Kyle almost pleaded. He remembered when Stan nearly bawled his eyes out the night Wendy broke up with him, and how he swore he'd get her back. But Stan didn't tell him why. _I can't believe it, _Stan thought_. I can't believe he hasn't seen through it yet. _

Stan brought his hand to his chin to think, and decided to take advantage of the opportunity.

"Yeah, ok," he said. "And, you know… Thanks, man." He placed a grateful hand on the redhead's shoulder.

He and Kyle grinned at each other before heading off to their homerooms. Since they went by last names, Marsh and McCormick headed down to Ms. Attendell's room, and Broflovski and Cartman made their way to Mr. Stein's. For two people who hated each other so much, fate threw Cartman and Kyle together an awful lot.

Stan's first period math class left him drooling on his notebook until the bell rang. He felt a sharp smack on the back of his head before he looked up irritably to confront the culprit.

"Get your ass to the next class, Marsh," Craig said. "Jesus, Kenny told me I'd have to make sure you didn't fail all your classes but this is ridiculous. It's the first fucking day." Stan watched as his view was obscured by a middle finger. Craig took his leave without another look back. As the school's resident asshole, second only to Cartman, walked out, Stan felt his eyes drop to the other boy's ass. Before he could realize what he was doing, Stan felt the familiar needle ram into the back of his brain. _Rule number 3: you don't look at guy's asses in school. It's one of the most fucking obvious signs that you're gay, retard._

"No need to be so rude," Stan mumbled to himself, before grabbing his things and heading towards chemistry. The chem room was on nearly the other side of the school.

When he got there, the room was already packed with kids. He must have been almost the last person to arrive. He looked over at Kyle, who was busy asking Jimmy to be first term partners. When the redhead looked up to see Stan staring at him, he winked and gave him a thumbs-up. Stan smiled nervously, rubbing the back of his head.

"Alright students," their teacher, Mr. Hook, stated bluntly. "This is chemistry and I'm the damn teacher. I know you don't give two shits about this class, and neither do I, but if you don't do your work you'll still get an F. Just choose your partners since there's not way in hell you'll pay any attention before we do." The abrasive man sat down at his desk and started surfing the web. Stan caught Kenny inconspicuously whipping out a copy of Playboy and Cartman stifling a laugh. Stan took a deep breath.

He stood up and stiffly approached Wendy's desk. It's not like they weren't on speaking terms anymore, but the break-up had been a little awkward and Stan didn't want to make things worse. He had to be really casual, real gentle. Yeah.

"Hey, um, Wendy?" he started, before mentally slapping himself. _Goddammit Stan, you should have called her Wends. It would have been way more casual and cute, she wouldn't feel uncomfortable… _

_Oh, just shut the fuck up already._

After internally debating himself, he noticed he had her attention. "Do you want to be partners for first term?"

He breathed a sigh of relief. Ok, he had this one in the bag. Wendy didn't have any good friends in this class, Bebe was in the fourth period chemistry class and—

"Oh, I'm sorry Stan," she said sympathetically. "I already promised Powder we'd be partners." She looked up at him apologetically and offered a small smile.

"But you don't even know Powder!" Stan gaped. _Shit, wrong thing to say._

Wendy crossed her arms. "Jesus Stan, don't act like you know everything about me. Powder's my friend, ok? Don't get jealous."

"W-wha? I'm not…" Stan watched her walk briskly away, hearing her tell Powder something about a date she had tonight. His eyes did not travel down towards her ass.

"What do you mean you're partnering up with Craig?" Cartman's angry voice brought Stan out of his state of relative shock. Kenny's laugh soon followed.

"Dude, chill out! It's only for, like, a month!" Kenny slid his arm around Cartman's huge frame. "We talked about it before, you know, when you were slamming on me for being poor?" The small blond smirked.

"Oh, so this is some revenge thing, is it? Some friend you are. Let's see how you like it when I pair up with…"

Cartman looked around desperately, and then ended up grabbing the hand of the first person who strolled by. He held the enclosed hand of his new, reluctant partner up in the air triumphantly.

"… Pip!" Cartman exclaimed smugly, eyes closed. They sprang open, alarmed, once he realized he'd be spending the next month taking care of a British faggot. Along with Butters, Pip happened to be the only out kid in the whole school. Cartman quickly let go of his hand and groaned. Kenny snickered behind him.

"D-do forgive me, Eric, but I just got up to ask the teacher a small q-question, and I have already promised Butters that we would be—" Pip stuttered, but Cartman could never admit his mistakes.

"And fag it up in here every day? Not on my watch, Brit," he growled. "Butters can find his own damn partner."

Pip's face flushed crimson. His outfit hadn't changed in the least from the quirky British attire he'd worn throughout elementary school. His pin-straight blond hair still came down to his jawline. Cartman's expression changed from aggression to something along the lines of "Pip, are you for seriously blushing right now, you unbelievable fag". Kenny and Craig behind him collapsed over each other in laughter, faces red from lack of air. Cartman stood fuming while Pip shifted uncomfortably. "Good heavens," he said quietly, but his British accent still shone through. Butters looked on from the bench next to Cartman's, and he almost looked jealous.

Stan had to cover his mouth with his hand to keep from betraying a look of amusement. Cartman making an ass out of himself wasn't a rare occurrence, but it sure as hell didn't get any less hilarious every time he did.

But then he remembered what Pip said.

"_I have already promised Butters that we would be—"_

Which meant that a certain homosexual was without a partner. You know, a certain homosexual _besides _Stan.

Oh no. No no no way in hell was he going to partner up with Butters, biggest fag on the face of the earth Butters, total nerd—ok, so the nerd thing could do wonders for his grades. But the fag part wouldn't help him. In the least.

Stan scanned the room frantically for someone, anyone without a partner, before he felt a weak pull at the sleeve of his jacket.

"Um, S-stan?"

_Fuck me._

Stan bit his lip and clenched his fists, counting to three. He took a deep breath, relaxes his muscles, and turned to face Butters. Behind the blond Stan could see Kyle giving him a helpless look. He glanced back at his friend with a similar expression before lowering his head to look at the scrawny teen.

"Yeah, Butters?"

"W-well… Shucks, Eric took my partner away, and seeing as how you don't got one…" he mashed his fists together furiously. His powder blue eyes flitted from the floor up to Stan's face repeatedly. Stan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before giving up.

"Sure, yeah, whatever. Let's be partners, I guess."

When he looked back at Butters, he saw that the boy's eyes were sparkling and he had brought his hands together below his chin, making him look even girlier than before. He looked so damn pleased with himself. _What happened to rule number two, you fucking faggot? Don't hang around gay people._

_Does it look like I have a choice?_

"Alright kids," Mr. Hook yawned, "The homework for tonight's on the board. Yes, you have homework the first day of school. It's a Friday anyway, you've got the whole damn weekend. Stop complaining. I suggest you do it with your partner if possible; it's best to get into a rhythm."

Stan and Butters sat at their lab bench. Stan rested his head in his arms, face against the cold black surface of the work station. Butters sat happily, spinning back and forth on his stool. Since he was such a model student, Stan figured Butters would demand they do the homework together, and frankly? Stan didn't want to drag it out too long. He would only be delaying the inevitable.

"Tonight, seven. You come over my house at seven so we can get this fucking homework out of the way." He and Kyle were supposed to hang out that night, but he doubted Kyle would mind postponing until Saturday. "I'm assuming you don't have any plans?"

Butters, evidentially pleased with himself for getting an enthusiastic partner, shook his head vigorously. "Nope, I'm free!" He smiled like an idiot. Of course he was free. Who the hell wants to hang out with this guy? "Gee, I sure am glad we're workin' together, Stan!"

"Uh yeah. Same?" Stan forced the corners of his mouth to turn upwards. He doubted it even resembled an expression of happiness. But Butters only grinned wider.

* * *

**So? Weird? Cute? I've written the next three chaps, so those'll go up whenever. Please keep reading! ~ CrisisOmegs**


	2. Teenage Dream?

**Here, I gots a little somethin' somethin' for you. Which is now rated M! Lucky! ~CrisisOmegs**

**

* * *

**

"Haha, Stan has to be with Butters, Stan has to be with Butters!"

"Jesus Christ, Cartman, how old are you? And aren't you paired with Pip?"

"I think you've strayed from the topic of conversation, Kahl, but nice try. We're really here to discuss how Stan has to invite a FAG over his house!"

"I don't understand the difference, Pip's gay too!"

"Yeah, but Stan has—"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP."

Cartman, Kyle and Kenny all stopped in their tracks; the usual gang of friends was exiting the school after their last class. Stan stood behind them, body stiff with rage. He pretended that he was that one guy from X-Men who could shoot lasers out of his eyes. He imagined Cartman roasting alive. The other two boys exchanged a concerned look. Cartman put his hands in his pocket and whistled innocently.

Kyle cleared his throat.

"Uh, Stan, are you that worried about being Butters' partner?"

Stan dropped the X-Men thing and looked down at the ground. He aimlessly kicked a pebble by his feet without responding.

"Is it because he's gay?"

How could he stay quiet now?

"Mind your own goddamned business, Kyle," he snapped, averting his eyes. He knew how his friends would take that, and he didn't want to see Kyle looking disappointed. Kenny spoke up.

"Dude, that's not cool. Butters isn't a bad guy. Don't be an asshole," he said. "Or I'll stop giving you rides, I mean it."

"Sorry," Stan mumbled. Better to be known as a homophobe over a homosexual. "Oh, and Kyle? We can't hang out tonight. Me and Butters are getting the homework out of the way."

Kyle tucked a red curl behind his hair nervously. "Ok. We can just chill tomorrow, right? I'll do my homework with Jimmy tonight." Stan nodded. "Alright. Just… Don't be a dick to him, ok? Butters has it hard enough already. I always feel kind of bad that we don't hang out with him anymore."

Kenny cringed, obviously sharing the same sentiments. Cartman snorted and started walking away towards his car.

"Yeah, ok. I understand," Stan said, and he waved good-bye to his best friend. "See you later, dude."

He ran off to catch up with Kenny, who had already started making his way to the parking lot. He sighed with relief now that the conflict was over, but Kenny shot him a disapproving look.

"Are you seriously going to get upset about this just because Butters is gay? I can't believe that. That's the lamest thing I've ever heard."

"What? That's so unfair!" Stan defended himself. "Cartman makes gay jokes all the time, you never call him out on it."

Kenny smirked. "Yeah, but Cartman's a total asshole. What does that make you?"

"Ok, I get your point," Stan groaned. "Look, I'm not really homophobic. I just feel a little uncomfortable since we're going to be doing all this work at each other's houses. Is that, like, so hard to understand?"

The two teens made their way into the car, and Kenny sighed. He brought his arm around Stan's back and soothingly massaged his shoulder. "Hey, don't beat yourself up over it. Just don't be a douche."

Stan focused hard on not blushing. He shook off Kenny's hand, which caused the blond to give Stan another 'look'. "Homophobe," Kenny said jokingly, smiling to himself.

Stan sighed, and fogged up the passenger's seat window with his breath. He absentmindedly traced 'HELP' onto the glass with his finger while Kenny's music blared in the background. The flirt must have liked this song, because not only was he singing his heart out, he was also rocking in his seat.

"…You, make, me, feel like I'm livin' a, teenage, dream, the way you turn me on…"

* * *

Butters stood on his own front steps, eyes downcast. He mashed his fists together earnestly while he prepared himself. Once he had started to feel like a stranger in his own home, he had stopped using the garage door. He was only worth entering through the front door, as a guest. He pulled the collar on his jacket up as a cool wind brushed past him, causing a shiver to run down his body. Maybe autumn was coming early this year.

He mustered up courage from some reserve he kept inside of him just for this moment every afternoon. He didn't really know where that bravery came from; wherever it was, that reserve must have been nearly depleted. He gripped the golden doorknob and turned it, pushing the door inwards.

Butters wiped the worried expression off his face as soon as he saw his father sitting in the living room, reading the paper. He replaced it with the best 'Butters smile' he could fake, but he realized his posture revealed his low self-esteem. He cried internally as he pictured himself standing there, looking like a beaten dog.

"O-oh, hi Dad!" Butters said; he moved carefully around the couch, making sure not to approach his father. He listened for a 'welcome home'. A smile. A grunt. Anything.

There! His father's grip on the newspaper had tightened slightly. He saw that, he saw! The innocent blond smiled for real this time, although it was a miniscule twitch of the mouth. He was like an addict when it came to his parents' affections. When Butters stood still rooted to the spot, begging silently for more, his father raised his head from the paper and spoke.

"Hello."

Butters was practically swimming in air, he felt so weightless. Relief washed over him as he was acknowledged, and he let the air he'd been keeping in his lungs leave his body. It wasn't much. A 'Hello' every afternoon wasn't much, he knew that. But what if he turned the golden doorknob and he got no response? The worst thing about it was that he could swear his parents said less and less to him everyday. But even if they cut the number of words they said to him in half every day, they'd still never reach zero. _That's right, Butters. Just think comforting thoughts. _

_There's nothing to be afraid of._

He considered telling his dad that he was going out later tonight, but the man might get the wrong idea. He figured he could just leave without saying anything, because his parents didn't ask anymore, really. He entertained the thought of leaving before dinner, buying himself a sub somewhere. He wouldn't have anyone to talk to, but it was better than being here at home, where he had _two_ people to talk to. They just didn't want to talk back.

* * *

Stan paced his room, walking quickly back and forth. He felt his heart beat faster each time he turned to continue meaninglessly. The room hadn't gotten any bigger since he was a child, and even if he'd covered its walls in football and band posters it was still the same damn room. But _he'd_ gotten bigger, of course, and sometimes he thought the bedroom's size was suffocating. It was cluttered with the same furniture he'd had since he was eight. The bed in particular made him physically sore because he simply didn't fit in it anymore.

And no matter how much he paced, he still felt the same way. It was that terrible, ugly urge that crept into his body and mind because he sixteen and gay and getting laid was not in his near future. His parents were out shopping for a new toaster oven or microwave or something, and Shelley was gone over her boyfriend's house. So he could do it if he wanted to. Nobody would interrupt him. He paced angrily and then came to a sudden stop, clenching and unclenching his fists.

_Don't do it, Stan. You'll only feel ashamed of yourself if you do. _

The sharp, stinging pain in the back of his head returned, trying to dissuade him from what he was about to do. However, being a teenage boy, Stan's hormones overwhelmed that hurt and eventually it had subsided into a slight prickling that could be wholeheartedly ignored. The needle's stabs had been replaced with another voice, one which found its home in a much lower part of his body.

_Look around. No one's here. Face it, Stan, you'll never get any ass in this hick town, not when you keep that mask on. So let loose! Shame? Please, Stan, it's not like you've never felt that before. You'll get over it._

_I say go for it._

Stan went for it. He sat down on his bed and, with a tinge of regret in his mind, unzipped his pants. He breathed heavily and took out his cock, which hardened almost instantly upon touching his warm hands. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to indulge in the first fantasy that came to mind.

_Kenny happily patted his friend on the head, and then playfully pinched his cheek._

"_There there, my little Stanley, we're here already."_

_But when Stan peeked out the window, the school wasn't anywhere to be seen. Kenny had driven them to a secluded area, where the only other things around were the evergreens and pine needles on the ground._

"No more fucking needles, please," Stan muttered. His eyes were still closed and his hand gently stroked his swollen member. He tweaked his story to his liking because, fuck, it was his fantasy and he could do whatever the hell he wanted with it.

_Kenny had driven them to a secluded area, where the only other things around were the oak trees and acorns on the ground._

_Stan eyed their surroundings suspiciously before turning to the grinning blond in the driver's seat._

"_Kenny, where the hell did you—" he started, but was cut off as Kenny's mouth enclosed his own. Stan let out a moan as Kenny's tongue curled around his, and the big flirt's scrawny, lustful hands invaded his body. One made its way up Stan's shirt, stroking his chest seductively. Stan, not knowing what to do, tried to push Kenny away. But the pervert's other hand dived into his pants and grabbed the rock-hard cock underneath._

"_K-kenny…" Stan moaned. "W-what are you…"_

_Kenny licked his lips and put a finger to Stan's mouth, while his other hand began running his fingers gently up and down his erection. _

"_Just relax dude," Kenny cooed, moving in for another passionate kiss. "Hey, don't beat yourself up over it. Just don't be a douche."_

_Hey, wait a second…_

Where had Stan heard that before?

_Ding dong._

Oh, yeah. Butters. Stan felt the color rush out of his face as he whirled around to check the clock. Seven on the dot.

_Son of a bitch. _

He looked at the current situation. Butters waiting at his doorstep while he sat up in his room like an idiot having a gay sexual fantasy about one of his best friends. Not to mention that he wasn't finished masturbating yet. He brought his palm up to meet his face, hard. Great, now he not only had to tolerate doing homework with Butters but he had to do so with a boner.

_Dead puppies, dead babies, fuck, give me something to work with here._

The doorbell rung again, and Stan took a second to collect himself. He tucked his dick back into his pants and grabbed his brown coat as he made his way to the front entrance. He hoped the extra layer would be long enough to hide his current, embarrassing state once he realized his problem wasn't going away. Kenny was still jacking him off in the back of his mind, grinning wildly.

_You have failed me yet again, dead puppies. I'll never forgive you for this._

Stan jerked the door open and was greeted by a predictably chipper Butters, who had his baby-blue backpack slung over his shoulder in addition to the textbooks he grasped in his hands. When Stan eyed him curiously, a slight pink spread over Butters' face.

"O-oh, um, w-well I figured if we was doin' chemistry homework together, w-we could do English, as well," he stammered. As he tried to justify himself, he raised his hand to enact some kind of gesture and dropped his chemistry textbook on his foot. While Butters yelped in surprise and pain, it took all Stan had to keep himself from just closing the door in the awkward blond's face and running upstairs to finish what he'd started. Now Stan was agitated, frustrated, AND horny. Not the best combo.

"Alright, yeah, whatever," Stan said dismissively. "Just get inside so we can do this." Butters looked slightly dejected as he reached down to pick up his book and walked inside, but Stan just sighed irritably and the two of them made their way to his room.

Butters emptied his book bag onto the dark blue carpet of the bedroom, and sat on the floor alongside his things with his legs crossed. He began scrupulously arranging his belongings in a very specific order, with pencils on one side of him and pens on the other. The blond's feminine face was scrunched up, revealing his intense concentration. Butters was so fucking gay, oh my god, just _look_ at him. He even sat like a girl. Stan sat nearby, keeping his distance on the office chair he kept in front of his desk.

_Don't get any ideas, _the needle taunted, ramming into Stan's brain once again.

_Well god, I wasn't even thinking that way until you mentioned that, you sick son of a bitch. Great, now I've got a fucking boner and you made me think of Butters in a compromising position. Just more fuel to the goddamn fire._

Stan inwardly cursed himself for this mental exchange before actually taking a good, hard look at the situation he was in right now. Two guys, two _gay_ guys, alone in a bedroom on a Friday night. And his boner sure as hell wasn't going away. In fact, his problem was only exacerbated by his last thought. He snuck a glance at Butters, who was scribbling happily in a pink notebook. When the girly teen raised his head and spoke, Stan suddenly looked away. Butters didn't seem to notice, or maybe he didn't care.

"O-okey-doke Stan, so we've gotta do this chemistry in this chapter, I reckon," he nodded thoughtfully. "A-and it looks like… electron configgeration. Config… Configuration." Butters smiled, beaming.

_Wow. _

Stan wondered how someone could be so childish at sixteen. But Butters knew himself, he knew he was gay, so that must mean he'd at least thought about… Stan was beginning to feel like a complete idiot. How could he have thought about Butters like that? Okay, well, there was a FUCKING BONER to deal with, and somehow the current state of events was just sexy enough to keep it going. But he was even more of an idiot because he was only thinking like this since he knew Butters was gay; Stan was hardly attracted to the guy. That's not really fair.

But neither is being interrupted while jacking off just so you can do some dumbass homework assignments.

"S-so you need to sit next to me right here," Butters patted the ground on his left side. "And we can read the section together, a-and then answer the questions on this sheet." Butters looked at Stan expectantly, hand still resting on the spot where he was supposed to sit.

_Um, yeah, not with a raging boner I'm not._

Stan spun slightly in his office chair, lightly patting the armrests.

"Ehh, yeeeaaah, about that. How about I just, uh, sit here, and then you read me the section out loud. Or, I could grab my copy of the text."

The light went out of Butters' eyes and Stan swore the kid was going through, like, a mental checklist. Something that went like, ok, I don't think I acted gay enough _already_ to make him feel uncomfortable, where did I go wrong? Stan thought his heart was going to pop. The blond already looked small, but now he seemed frail as well, his little puff of hair sagging on his head.

_Aww, don't do that, little hair puff. C'mon, you can stay all nice and perky for me right? Don't look so goddamned sad._

"W-well gee Stan, I ain't gonna bite you or nothin' like that," Butters managed; he had dropped his pencil in favor of mashing his well-worn fists together. "I, I just… I mean, there's an awful lot of p-pictures and diagrams, so you need to s-see 'em, and it might be e-easier if we read it together…" The blond bashfully lowered his head.

Stan told himself not to do it, Butters was gonna see. But what the hell else was he supposed to do, run into the bathroom and rub one out real quick so he could feel comfortable again? Maybe… No. With Butters in the other room, Stan would end up having some weird, completely uncalled for thoughts. Or he _could _just be an asshole and stay where he sat; let Butters feel like a complete piece of shit.

The blond noticed his hesitation and his head drooped even more until he looked overcome with shame. Stan had seen that look too many times before, when he looked in the goddamn mirror, to not be able to sympathize with him.

He inhaled sharply and stood up from the office chair, pinching the bridge of his nose in response to his own stupidity. He took a seat next to Butters on the floor, still a good distance away. Butters looked up at him, obviously ecstatic that Stan wasn't repulsed, though the small teen did notice his uncertainty. Butters brought his soft hand to rest on the carpet right next to him again, patting it gently.

"I-if you ain't gonna come close," he began nervously. "T-then you won't be able to read the section, Stan." He smiled softly and took his hand off the floor, eyeing Stan hopefully.

_Oh fuck it._

Stan gradually shifted his body so that it nearly touched Butters'. The unsightly bulge in his pants was in plain view for god's sake, and Butters playing all cutesy was NOT helping the cause. All Stan could think was 'good god, he's such a fucking girl, and there is the possibility that he would someday suck your dick, there is the fuckin' _possibility_'.

He made sure to stare directly at the wall in front of him, because he could not face Butters like this without thinking worse thoughts.

Butters merely grinned widely at Stan's compliance, but as his pastel-blue eyes traveled down to stare at the textbook once again, they got caught on Stan's prominent crotch. Butters froze, mouth open, eyes wide, the whole shebang. He was completely and utterly shocked. He slowly, carefully lifted his head to take a look at Stan's face, and the raven-haired boy's features now had a bright red painted across them. But Stan didn't dare turn his neck.

"D-do you have…?"

Stan stayed silent, but then nodded, rigidly.

Butters' mouth went dry before he asked the most ridiculous question Stan had ever heard in his entire life.

"Is—Is it… for me?"

_Holy fucking god_.

Stan couldn't hold it, he just couldn't. He broke down, laughing hysterically at Butters. His eyes were tearing up, oh god, he had to hold his sides because he could hardly breathe! Was it for him! Like a fucking birthday present! He couldn't stop himself. The laughter went on for what seemed like forever, before he recollected himself enough to wipe the water from his eyes and breathe a relaxed sigh. Butters still bore an expression of horror combined with something weird. Stan stared at the blond, biting his lip to stifle another round of laughter, and smirked.

"What if it was?"

Butters' eyes grew softer, like he hadn't heard the laughter alerting him to what a dumbass question he'd just asked. In that moment, Stan felt cruel. The lust he saw suddenly pervading Butters' features told him that he was most certainly not being fair at all. For all the innocence and naiveté he had in him, Butters Stotch was just as sexually repressed as Stan was. But Stan had his own desire to deal with, a desire that was growing hotter and stronger when he realized just how bad Butters wanted it.

Against all better judgment, caution probably thrown to the wind by his lower region, the black-haired teen leaned temptingly closer to Butters. By this time, the frazzled blond had probably reasoned that Stan was just teasing him and he was imagining it all, and that he really needed to learn to behave himself. Or something.

"T-the h-homework," Butters spoke weakly, but he let out a yelp when he saw that Stan's face had traveled until it was barely two inches away from his own. Stan could feel the labored, panicked breathing on his face but he didn't really care.

If he was to think back to it, Stan would say that it was completely the fault of his flaming boner, ridiculously hungry for some action. But truthfully, it was a product of years of pent-up frustration that he was often ashamed of and often tried to ignore. That night, something finally gave; the dam was broken. All the hormones, fantasies, wet dreams, streamed out in a colossal flood. Stan finally stopped denying his natural, animalistic desires.

Before Butters could utter another word, Stan had him pinned down on the floor next to his old bed, with its ancient wood frame. What he wouldn't have given to have been on the bed instead of next to it, no matter how shitty the frame or the mattress.

He leaned in fast, his lips pressing firmly against Butters'. He worked fast, wasting no time. He brought one of his hands up to caress Butters' soft cheek. The blond wriggled in surprise, blue eyes wide, for a second before letting his body go limp. He closed his eyes and hungrily returned Stan's fervent kisses, although it was clear he was an amateur. Stan at least had experience kissing girls, but who the fuck cared whether Butters was a good kisser or not? Stan had a guy, an actual male, WITH A PENIS, splayed on his floor while their lips messily collided.

This was too much, too good to be true. Stan's lust only rose when he heard Butters emit a weak moan. His strong, athletic hands reached underneath Butters' shirt, rubbing his chest sensually. He thought he heard Butter say something about stopping, but any sounds that weren't overtly sexual were now completely blocked out by his brain. His tongue still intertwined with Butters', softly grazing the roof of the timid boy's mouth, Stan picked up the small teen with ease and thrust them both onto the bed. _Finally_. Butters opened his eyes in terror when he realized how far this was going, but Stan was still busy feeling him up, now kissing the horrified teen's long neck with a crazy smile on his face and his hands traveling down into the blond's pants. Butters tried desperately to fling Stan off of him, but nothing would work. The raven-haired teen was utterly absorbed in fulfilling this hunger he had never been able to satisfy. Stan kept the delicate boy down, pushing him into the bed's covers, while Butters grabbed his hand and tried frantically to keep it from moving any further southward.

"S-stop, p-please!" Butters begged, still struggling to no avail.

Abruptly, Stan came to his senses. He blinked, pulled his face back and brought his eyes to rest on the small boy writhing beneath him. He realized his erection was pressed firmly onto the inside of Butters' thigh, and he swiftly removed himself from the boy's fragile frame. They were both breathing heavily, panting even. Butters defensively brought his knees up to his chin, curling into a little ball. He eyed Stan suspiciously, and there might have even been a hint of fear in his gaze.

Stan was still breathing hard when he eagerly apologized, wracked with guilt.

"Oh my god Butters, I'm so, so sorry. I mean, what the fuck was I thinking? I was fucking raping you for god's sake. Holy shit, oh my god. That was so uncool, I mean, shit, what in the…"

Half apology, half begging himself for answers. Well, you take what you can get.

The fear almost left Butters' face when he understood Stan's thought process. He seriously doubted that Butters would forgive him this easily. But at least, if he could relate to what Stan had been feeling, then he wouldn't look at him like he was a complete sexual deviant. Stan realized that he probably couldn't have almost-raped a better person.

_Wow, I am soooo messed up._

Surprisingly, Butters didn't ask Stan whether he was gay or not. If this was a good thing or a bad thing, Stan didn't know. If he didn't ask, well, he was either too polite or Stan's sexuality was too obvious. He was voting for the latter.

"T-that was very, very b-bad," Butters said quietly, almost to himself. He wasn't looking at Stan anymore. "That wasn't a g-good thing, because I-I'm savin' myself for someone, a-and that would have been very, very bad. H-he can be awful possessive, and he would be awful sore at me for this, j-just like when I told him that I like fellas…"

Stan didn't know what he was supposed to say, but it sounded like Butters was in love with a homophobe who was not only possessive, but also got angry at the kid on a regular basis.

_You shouldn't be thinking about this, Stan, you should be apologizing more to the poor guy! You could have scarred him! You were almost in his pants,I mean, holy shit! You…_

Whoah. Back it up a little. Stan only knew one person in South Park who matched the description Butters just gave, and damn if he didn't match it to a tee. He felt his throat grow dry as he stared at Butters, who was seemingly mentally berating himself for giving in, at least partially, to Stan's advances.

"Y-you, you l-like," Stan choked, "C-Cartman?"

Butters blushed. It was all the answer Stan needed. Still curled protectively, Butters sighed feebly and turned his sad gaze to the floor.

At least it was nice to know Stan wasn't the only one who felt totally fucked.

* * *

**So yeah. Comments? Criticisms? Concerns? Things are certainly heating up :3 Please reviewewewewe!**


	3. No More Fooling Around

**In this chapter, somebody admits to being gay, somebody doesn't really care if he's gay, and somebody gets exploited. The second pairing appears!  
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**I don't really like the Stan and Kyle conversation, but who am I to say it sucks. Decide for yourselves. I like the Pip part though, I think that complex he has about his relationship with Butters fits into the show canon pretty well considering Butters basically replaced him. Also, leave some feedback! I got like 40 views on the last chapter and 2 people responded. You can do better! ;) ~ CrisisOmegs**

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* * *

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Butters, still reeling from shock, nestled his head in his crossed arms. He didn't want to get up from this bed. He hadn't behaved himself again, and everyone was going to be awfully sore at him. Especially Eric.

That brunet was, as others put it, an asshole. He was always double-crossing people, and he was always scheming. There was never a moment when you could be absolutely sure that he was telling you the truth, because later he would pull an ulterior motive out of his sleeve and reveal, oh, surprise! He was lying, tricking you! And Butters was stupid enough to believe him every time.

But, even if he was mean to Butters, he still came to him when he needed help. He'd ask him the favors he wouldn't dream of asking the others, who had stopped listening to his plans years ago. If Butters played his cards right, he would get a thank-you when everything came to fruition, or maybe even one of Eric's elusive smiles. When he looked into Eric's face, bright with intelligent, cunning thought or ecstatic with anticipation, and Butters knew that he could do something to help him, well…

He felt like he was worth something. He felt like somebody genuinely needed him. The feeling was intoxicating. So he stuck around long enough to essentially become Eric's bitch, and when a devious smile spread over the larger boy's slightly pudgy face and he pulled Butters close to whisper his next plan in his ear, the blond felt his weak body shiver with happiness. Yeah, it wasn't a very healthy relationship, and if they ever got together, Butters doubted it would get any healthier. Frankly, Eric probably wasn't even gay.

But he gave Butters something, something to look forward to. That was all Butters needed from anybody, from his parents, his friends, and it was something he rarely received.

Stan had given him something. So what did he do?

He brought his legs close to his body, mumbled to himself while the black-haired teen apologized profusely, gathered up his copious books and pencils, god why did he have to bring so many, and he ran.

Yes, he liked Eric, he liked him a lot. But that wasn't why he ran, even if that's what he told Stan. Butters knew how unrealistic it was to even fantasize about the brunet, and how could he disappoint him if there was no mutual affection to start with? Butters was resigned to keeping his feelings bottled up inside, and he often wondered if he was truly in love with Eric. Or if his judgment was constantly clouded by his pathetic and ever-present _need_ for affection.

Butters Stotch ran from Stan's room because he was afraid. He had kissed the school's star football player, manly man extraordinaire, who was in reality every bit as gay as he was. If the overly-passionate, lustful kiss Butters had received was any reflection of the other teen's sexuality.

He was tired and worried and he was going to spend the rest of first term suffocated by Stan's very presence for at least forty minutes a day unless a miracle happened. He couldn't imagine the moment when he would sit by Stan's side tomorrow, and scribble notes on the lined paper in his light purple chemistry notebook. It would just be so, so… wrong. Butters had done something wrong again. It must be his fault, his stupid, baby-faced, pathetic fault, the fault of his mustard colored hair and his despicable eyes which were the color of those blue slushies pumped with artificial sweetener. And where the hell was his Hello Kitty pen? How did anyone expect him to stay calm when he couldn't write in baby blue ink?

* * *

Stan was lying silently in his bed, legs straight out and one arm tucked behind his head. His other hand twirled a certain teen's pen between his fingers.

His erection had finally subsided when Butters ran out the door with his face flushed in embarrassment.

He frowned and brought the gel pen close to his face.

"Hello Kitty," Stan asked. "Did Butters _actually_ run away because I'm a terrible kisser?"

…

No answer.

He sighed heavily and placed the writing utensil next to his alarm clock before smothering his face with a pillow.

"Fuck you, Hello Kitty."

* * *

Stan spent his entire Saturday moping. Shelly came in around one to get him out of bed, mostly by screaming in his ear, but he warded her off and complained of a mind-numbing headache. Which wasn't too far from the truth, considering that needle in the back of his head had been forged into a sledgehammer overnight.

The worst thing was that every time he finally got himself to stop thinking about what happened, his mind would trail off in bliss for a moment before he'd think, gee, I have to do my homework, and then Friday's encounter would replay itself word for word. Him having a boner. Butters looking like a total Melvin. Butters looking cute. Butters looking, well, kinda sexy. Butters looking scared.

Then Stan would just bury his face in his bed sheets and his thought process would repeat itself in a never-ending cycle. It was like being water boarded, except even more horrifying.

And if he wasn't reprimanding himself for what he did to Butters, he was imagining the disgusted look on Kenny's face if he ever found out that Stan tried to jack off to him.

When Kyle called at eight to ask him when the hell he was coming over, Stan finally got out of his slump and changed into something mildly presentable. He grabbed his PS3 controller on the way out, silently cursing himself for choosing to buy the red one. He remembered when he and Kyle went out to buy controllers together, since they didn't want to have the same color. There had only been red and pink at the store, and Kyle had obligingly purchased the latter. Maybe if Stan had bought the pink one, Kyle would react better when he came out of the closet. Maybe if he'd made one slip-up, like an obvious gay one, that Kyle could point back to and say 'oh, ok, that makes sense', Stan would feel better about coming out.

Obviously, he was planning on doing that tonight. He couldn't have Butters spilling the beans before he got a chance. God, he hated that annoying little fag with his soft, sky blue eyes and silky blond hair. As much as it was Stan's fault, he hated that Butters was the guy he shared his first kiss with. He desperately hoped that Kyle would not only be apathetic towards his sexuality, but be comfortable enough with it to give him some advice. Some needed advice.

Because Kenny wasn't his personal chauffer, Stan prepared himself for the walk to Kyle's house. The night sky was pitch black, and the wind was surprisingly cold. He settled further into his cocoa jacket before awkwardly jogging his way to Kyle's front door, shivering. It was so dark out that Stan couldn't tell whether there were clouds above him, but if there were then South Park may be covered in an early layer of snow. In fucking September. He huffed and he saw wisps of his own breath curl around in the air and disappear.

As always, he grasped the doorknob and entered without knocking. After being best friends with someone for nearly sixteen years, that's usually how things end up. He shivered at the temperature change, waved a casual hello to the Broflovski family, and made his way into their finished basement. Kyle hadn't had one like this when they were kids, but when they turned thirteen the Broflovski's home went through some major renovations. The basement was transformed from a dingy cellar into what was essentially Kyle's own personal bachelor pad. It was equipped with a PS3 and a huge couch that was probably from the 80's, judging from the bright colors and strange patterns. The carpet was a gentle brown while the walls were a darker shade of the same color. In a household filled with boys, Kyle's mom had given up on interior decorating for the most part, so anything adorning the walls was lazily pinned there with a tack.

Kyle looked up from the television when he heard Stan's footsteps, and grinned widely.

"Hey, dude! You brought your controller, right?" The redhead looked at his friend expectantly. Stan whipped it out of his coat pocket.

"How could I forget?"

He walked over to plug the controller into the console, and sat back on the 80's couch with Kyle. Stan basked in the calmness of it for an hour, lazily shooting Kyle's character in the back, head, and stomach. He smirked as Kyle groaned in dismay, half-heartedly shoving his best friend in an effort to distract the better player. He needed this, he needed this bliss before he made a move that could seriously put a wedge between the two of them. When Kyle's assassin fell to his death in a lava pit for the fifth time, Stan hesitated.

GAME OVER. CONTINUE?

"Are you gonna kick my ass again, or is this getting too easy for you?" Kyle asked sarcastically. Stan's sea blue eyes were glued to the screen. He felt his grip on the controller tighten considerably. When Kyle noticed the sudden tension, he glanced at his friend in concern.

"Um, dude?"

"Kyle, I really need to tell you something. Because of, uh, something that happened last night."

Kyle's expression changed, shifting from slightly worried to annoyed.

"Aww, man, you didn't rip on Butters did you? I know for a fact he wouldn't make any moves, he's so not like that. Are you feeling guilty because you made him cry or something?" Kyle rolled his eyes like he was fed up with Stan's bullshit.

Stan frowned, furrowing his brows. He stayed silent for a second before dropping the controller and turning to face his super best friend.

"Dude, I'm gay."

"Jesus, Stan, and you told me you wouldn't—what?"

Kyle stared at him, waiting for a reiteration. But Stan refused to give him one.

"You heard what I said."

Kyle's neon pink controller fell to the ground as his jaw went slack. He quickly tried to recollect himself, diving down to reclaim it, but when he whipped back up his body was stiff and he was holding the controller backwards. Nevertheless, he still responded with a determined look on his face.

"Okay," he said, nodding firmly. The combination of shock and open-mindedness brought on a hilarious expression on the redhead's face. Stan felt a grin creep its way onto his mouth.

Stan looked at his friend curiously and then started laughing. He covered his mouth with his hand in an effort to keep the conversation halfway serious. Kyle, embarrassed, turned the controller around but still retained his firm expression.

"I'm serious. I don't care. Honest," he sputtered. "I just didn't expect it. Since you, uh, expressed interest in tits."

The two super best friends just looked at each other. At the same time, they broke into a smile and Kyle patted Stan reassuringly on the back. They both laughed for a while before Stan spoke.

"I sort of expected you to be a little angry," he admitted, rubbing the back of his head nervously. "Not that I think you're an asshole or anything. But I mean, it's, well, weird. Right?"

Kyle played with one of his fiery curls before responding.

"Well, only because you sort of date girls. Namely Wendy."

"I kinda, uh, used her. To look straight."

Kyle frowned disapprovingly.

"Stan…"

"What? Cut me a break, I'm pouring my heart out here."

"That's not really fair, she liked you a lot!"

"Well I thought I liked her too! Until I was eleven."

Kyle sighed, but continued smiling.

"Water under the bridge now, I guess. As long as you don't try anything like that again."

Stan bit his lip.

"About that... Remember how I told you something happened last night?"

Kyle shouted in disbelief.

"No, you didn't! Not Butters! He's like, the most naïve kid I've ever met! Stan, what did you do to him?"

Stan winced and recoiled from the outburst.

"Look, all I did was make out with him. And, you know, feel him up a little." Kyle opened his mouth to yell again, but something about the image of Stan groping an innocent Butters made his face turn green. "I swear, that's all. Aw, dude, don't be grossed out!"

Kyle suddenly looked very, very tired.

"Ok, first off don't describe anything," he demanded. "I'm no homophobe but that's definitely not a pretty picture. Second, what were you thinking? Butters is not the type of guy you make out with and leave without saying good-bye."

"Hey, you're making it sound like we slept together and then I snuck out in the morning to make him feel like a whore," Stan retorted. "And furthermore, he's the one who walked out afterwards."

"So not the point."

"… I know. But… What do I do?"

"You've got to apologize. No other option. You're going to be working with him for the rest of first term."

"Gee, who was it who convinced me to ask Wendy to partners, hmm?"

"Hey, you brought this on yourself."

"Ugh, I know!"

Stan covered his face with his hands and leaned back into the couch in anguish. He heard a stifled laugh to his right.

"Kyle, what is so funny about this?"

Kyle started giggling uncontrollably, and smiled deviously.

"I'm sorry, man. It's just, do you wanna trade controllers? Pfft. I think this one suits you better."

Kyle held out the candy pink controller and waved it in front of Stan's face teasingly.

Stan scowled and tried to hold back a grin in spite of himself. Kyle always seemed to know what he was thinking. He smacked the controller out of the redhead's hands.

"I would so beat you up right now if it wouldn't be completely gay for me to wrestle another guy to the ground."

The two ended the night cracking up hysterically as they swapped gay jokes. The best part was that Kyle was treating him no differently. There were no awkward moments as his best friend tried to avoid insulting gays, and there were no questions about if Stan had ever thought of Kyle in, well, that way. Making out with Butters had brought a slew of new problems to the table, but it helped Stan fix one of the worst ones he had.

He wouldn't think he'd ever say it, but, in a way… He was almost grateful for what happened Friday night. Almost.

* * *

As it neared seven on Saturday night, Pip excitedly picked out his favorite CDs to listen to for when Butters came over. They had become close ever since they'd come out at around the same time. Ok, Butters came out and then Pip followed suit. But they'd both been practically ostracized by half the school's population, so they made it a point to hang out together. And contrary to popular belief, they weren't attracted to each other in the least. Simply put, they were much too similar, even in looks.

Thought when it came to the choice between the two of them, people chose Butters. It was just how it worked. Both of them were scrawny, petite blonds, nearly the same height. Both of them stuttered when they were nervous, and both of them were relatively naïve. And both of them were gay. And people always chose Butters.

But they still liked spending time together, obviously because they could relate. So Pip looked through his music collection and selected some nice songs, his favorites from ABBA and Pat Benatar, to listen to while they chatted or watched a cute movie. Pip had _those _kinds of musical tastes, the 80s hits that everyone else was sick of. He couldn't help it.

The doorbell rang downstairs and he skipped out of his room to get it before his foster parents could. As soon as the door opened, Butters shouted something about having a serious discussion and immediately bounded upstairs. Pip stood confused for a moment before following his friend, now excited.

"Why, Butters, what ever is the matter?"

"Oh golly, Pip, you're n-never gonna believe what happened to me last night!"

They sat on Pip's peach-colored carpet, the British boy hugging a frilled pillow, smiling and eager to hear the story. "Love is a Battlefield" buzzed through the air. Butters' eyes were dead serious and he whispered even though there was no one else around to hear them.

"I-I had my first kiss!"

Pip's heart sunk.

"W-what?"

"Yeah! I-it really happened, Pip! Shucks, I'm k-kinda scared, it was crazy!"

Butters kept spewing details about what happened. And with_ who_. Pip clutched his pillow harder, trying to use it for comfort. Butters seemed genuinely upset about this first kiss of his, while Pip secretly seethed. This always happens. _Always._

Why did Butters have to come out before he did, so then it looked like Pip just copied him? Why did everybody like Butters, just a little bit more?

Why did Butters get to be kissed before he did?

_Look at him, he's positively gushing about last night. He says he was scared, but I don't believe it for a second. He probably liked it. It's not fair. Why does Butters always have Lady Luck by his side? _

Pip stared longingly, ears barely hearing Butters' rant, at the other blond's features. He wanted that face. He didn't understand why it was so much better than his, but apparently everyone else did. He wanted Butters' face. And he wanted Butters' vocal chords, too, to finally be done with his fugly Brit accent.

_Can't I just be one step ahead of him? Just once?_

_

* * *

_

Cartman waited until the last possible second to have that Limey freak come over and do his homework for him. He put out a mug of tea for the Brit, because all Brits love that shit and he was going to need the caffeine to get through all of Eric's English and math. Hey, he might as well take advantage of the situation; Pip was a good fuckin' student.

Pip came later than he expected, and the two ended up meeting at six on Sunday evening.

"Took you long enough," Cartman spat. "Whatsa matter, get into an accident driving on the wrong side of the road?"

Pip stood bashfully at the doorway, his hat sliding down his face slightly as he blushed.

"Oh, my apologies, Eric," the blond responded. "M-my foster parents were quite busy for most of the afternoon, you see."

Cartman grunted indifferently as he remembered how similar the Brit was to Butters. He regretted making the tea; the scrawny kid was enough of a pushover that he hardly needed any convincing to get him to do bitch work.

As Pip sat down and took out his things, Cartman grasped a bag of Cheesy Poofs in one hand a Pepsi in the other. He saw the Limey glance up at him several times, and figured he had about fifteen minutes before Pip started bitching at him for not getting busy.

Fifteen minutes passed.

"I say, Eric, would you like to assist me in this chemistry work?"

_Called it._

"No," he said bluntly. He reached for another Cheesy Poof to find that the bag was now empty. He huffed and brushed it off the table onto the floor. Pip eyed his actions nervously.

"W-where would your mother happen to be tonight, Eric?" the blond stuttered.

"The fuck should I know? Jesus, don't get on my case 'cause I'm making life hard for my mom or some shit. You stutter just like Butters does. Nag." Cartman leaned back in his seat, arms crossed and smirking.

Then Pip broke down. No really, he just broke down. There were tears flying out of his eyes like nobody's business. The Brit started really _sobbing_, gasping for breath between bouts of crying. He held his arms out to his sides like he didn't know what to do with them. Cartman looked on, slightly confused but mostly amused.

"What's got you down, Pippy?" Cartman said lazily, bringing the Pepsi to his lips for another sip. Juicy gossip had been kind of his thing ever since middle school. It was basically information trafficking.

Pip wiped some of the tears off his face with his sleeves, but for the most part kept crying. He hiccupped like a desperate little girl before answering.

"I-It's not *hick* fair! Am I really so *hick* similar to him? I m-mean, he's not a bad guy, *hick* but he always beats me!"

Cartman raised an eyebrow before his eyes lit up with realization. "Oh, you mean Butters! Yeah, you fags are pretty much twins." Seeing Pip fighting to hold back tears again, he decided to wring as much info as he could before the Brit died from dehydration. "But the real question is why you freaked all of a sudden."

Pip looked at him with puffy, red eyes.

"B-Butters got his first kiss on Friday…"

Cartman's mind started working, like somebody flicked a switch. He didn't like to prod his clientele too much, lest they get suspicious of his ulterior motive; he would usually get a tidbit or something and being the incredible genius he was, figure out the rest on his own. His mouth curled into a wicked grin when he remembered that Butters had mentioned getting his homework out of the way before the end of the weekend. And the person he was assigned to do it with…

_Oh, this is fucking gold right here._

By this time he'd essentially forgotten Pip, but was alerted to his presence again as Pip threw himself on the table in hysterics.

"W-why does he always get to do things before me? I-I wanted my f-first kiss before he got his!"

With his mind already working like a supercomputer and all his morals having been thrown out the window in fifth grade, Cartman came up with another idea. He looked at his warped reflection in the Pepsi can and silently asked himself, _if I have Pip suck my dick, does that make me gay?_

His reflection shrugged and stuck out its tongue_. Whatevah, I do what I want!_

Cartman licked his lips. _Perfect._

"Oh Pippy," he crooned. "I know something Butters has never, _ever_ done."

Pip lifted his head, slight hope finding its way into his eyes. He sniffed and wiped his face again, only worsening the redness.

"Y-you do, Eric?"

Cartman sneakily leaned over and snaked a massive arm around the slender blond's waist. He pulled the Brit close and laughed inwardly as he felt Pip shiver under his touch.

"I'll bet he's never gotten a handjob before," Eric breathed; Pip stayed frozen in place. "And I'm offering to trade you one for a blowjob. I'll be honest, I'm at my wit's end here. I haven't gotten a girl in months, and you," Cartman teased as Pip's face flushed crimson, "look awfully similar to one, if you hadn't already noticed."

Pip shifted uncomfortably, but was still considering the offer. Once Eric Cartman had somebody in his grasp, he didn't let go. Especially when it came to the serious business that was blowjobs.

"G-Good heavens, Eric," Pip stammered. "T-that is highly inappropriate b-behavior, and…"

He trailed off, curling his hair in one hand. Cartman rolled his eyes and grabbed Pip's effeminate wrist.

"You don't get these kinds of chances unless you're wasted out of your mind at a party, especially if you're gay in a hick town like South Park," he growled. "And you don't exactly seem like a heavy drinker. Besides, I'm fuckin' disease free, guaranteed. I always make sure after the whole AIDS fiasco." He leaned in closer to whisper into Pip's ear. "Can't you just imagine the feeling of being more mature than Butters, to have done something it'll probably take him years to do? The little fag will wait around for a serious relationship, while you can cum right here by another man's hands in the next thirty minutes."

Cartman mentally winced at the last part, since he didn't exactly _want_ to jack the Brit off. But, in retrospect, it would be a small price to pay for a blowjob. As the years went by, Cartman had figured out that ruthlessly making demands rarely worked. It was all about bargaining, and he drove a hard one. He figured Pip would be so ashamed after the fact that he wouldn't tell anyone, anyway. Not even Butters.

After further consideration, Pip eventually gave a slight nod. Cartman smirked. Oh, the things jealousy will do to a person. Take an innocent teen and corrupt him with the promises of being better than the rest, whatever their fucked up definition of 'better' happened to be.

Cartman, still holding the other teen's wrist, stood up from the chair and led the blond into his bedroom. While the Brit was overwhelmed by the abundance of Nazi paraphernalia covering the walls, Eric took the opportunity to take off his belt and let his pants drop to his feet. The innocent Pip traced the room with his eyes before settling them on Cartman's crotch, eyes wide with horror. He pressed his feminine legs together like he was afraid of getting raped, and hesitated. The brunet pointed to the floor and snarled before the blond could make any last minute decisions.

"On your knees, Limey."


	4. That Could Change Anytime

**Okay, sos, here's the next chapter. I like it. Tell me what you think. Sorry for not getting back to you guys with all your awesomesauce reviews, I've been super busy with picking out new classes for next year and projects and shit. :P Enjoy. **

**Also, I recommend you listen to the songs mentioned as I say them, you don't have to listen to all of them, but if you're going to listen to one listen to 'Double Vision' because it's kinda the most important song in the story. ~CrisisOmegs**

**

* * *

**

Stan yawned while he walked through the halls before homeroom. He'd been able to fall asleep pretty easily the night before, though he still felt wiped out. His Sunday consisted of primarily relaxing, feeling relieved since he'd told Kyle he was gay, and then later followed by worry as he remembered 'the Butters incident'. But mostly he was just tired, no matter how concerned he was. Some crazy shit happened that weekend. It took a lot out of him.

Kenny was at his side, bragging about his latest one night stand or something along those lines. Stan yawned again, bringing his hand up to hide his open mouth, and the two of them went to greet Kyle and Cartman.

"Please, Cartman. No girl would ever suck your balls after one date."

"But she totally did! Real cute little blonde, too. I'd introduce you, but I'm pretty sure she'd run screaming at the sight of your Jewfro."

"Shut up, fatass! Oh, hey Stan!"

Stan waved and laughed as he approached the other half of their group. "Hey dude. What's up?"

Kyle rolled his eyes and jabbed a finger towards Cartman.

"This lardass here wants me to believe that a girl came over his house on a Sunday night to suck his balls. He's so full of shit, you wouldn't believe it."

Cartman opened his mouth to defend himself but Kenny launched into a tirade about his own sexual conquests instead. They ended up comparing girls and Kenny smirked mischievously as he showed off that day's porno. Kyle took the opportunity to pull Stan aside and ask about his plan of action with Butters.

"You _are_ going to apologize, right?"

"Y-yeah, of course I am?" Stan said, immediately regretting that it came out like a question. Kyle looked at him skeptically.

"No, I am! Promise! I just really don't wanna do it because it's gonna be unbearably awkward. And I mean, this is gonna sound sort of conceited since I probably wouldn't like a guy if he molested me, but what if Butters starts to have a crush on me?" Stan ranted.

"Well, what if he does? It wouldn't be terrible to be in a relationship with him would it?"

Stan gaped, and threw his hands in the air exasperatedly.

"Um, it's Butters, for one? How could I ever, ugh, fall in love with him?"

"I'm not telling you to get married to him, I'm just saying that if you're looking for a boyfriend Butters doesn't seem like the worst choice. You can't be that repulsed by him, since, well…"

"Impulse. It was on impulse."

"Yeah, but it must have been driven by something, right?"

Stan just sighed and leaned on a nearby locker. Kyle, taking pity on him, decided to give his friend one of his patented "I Learned Something Today" speeches.

"Look, I haven't had a crush on anybody since freshman year. And even though Red ended up going out with somebody else, being in love with her was awesome! I don't have the stress of worrying about relationships anymore, but I don't have as much to be passionate about either. It's like, even if I didn't get the girl in the end, I still had a great time talking with her and thinking about her. I don't regret having a crush on her, and I don't regret asking her out even if she said no. It's okay to really want to be with someone, Stan, even if you think you shouldn't. It's nice. As long as you don't fuck anything else up, Butters should be a viable option."

Stan lifted his head and gawked at his friend before responding.

"There's a reason Cartman calls those your 'gay little speeches', dude."

Kyle punched his friend playfully in the arm and they both walked their separate ways as the homeroom bell rang.

First period rolled by for Stan with no problems, and chemistry was upon him like he'd blinked and forty minutes had passed.

When he entered the classroom, he hesitantly walked towards his and Butters' lab station. The timid blond was already seated, biting his lip. When he heard footsteps approaching, he looked up bashfully and turned bright red. The scrawny teen closed his chemistry book hard, making a loud _slam_ that caused him to jump.

_Viable option my ass._

Stan reluctantly took his seat and drummed his fingers on the bench. He made sure to avoid looking at his partner, and instead his eyes drifted across the room. Eventually his glance spotted a very bitchy-looking Kyle, and Stan shrank back in fear. The redhead looked like he was going to eat someone if Stan didn't man up and do what he had to do. So he cleared his throat and peered down at the blond.

Butters, mashing his fists under the table, scooted away in his stool. Stan moved a little closer, trying to make things less awkward. But Butters only shifted further. Before either of them knew it, Butters' chair was pressed firmly against the wall of the room with no where to go. He looked like a captured puppy.

Stan decided to just go for it. He scooted back a little to give Butters some more room. He noted happily that the blond loosened up after he realized that, if he really wanted to, he could escape. Crawl under the bench or something. Stan rubbed the back of his neck and frowned.

"Hey, so, sorry? About Friday, I mean. I know it's kind of a late apology, but I don't really, you know, I wanted to tell you face to face. So I just waited. I was totally out of line and I understand if you don't want to come over my house to do homework anymore. I can do it myself, so you don't have to—"

"T-that's ok, Stan, I mean, y-you don't have to go and apologize or n-nothing. It was my fault for makin' weird comments and stuff."

Stan stared at his chem partner like he was on acid.

"Um, no. It's not your fault."

"W-well, I need to learn to behave myself—"

"How could you blame yourself for that? Jesus, dude, that was completely my bad. I was the one who, you know… What did you do that was wrong? Nothing. It was my fault."

"N-no, I reckon it was mine, 'cause I a-asked you that question and all—"

"You think _that's_ what set me off?" Stan snorted. "I was horny before you even walked through the door. I mean, uh… Shit. Now it's just fuckin' awkward as all hell." He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Butters' face flushed and he went back to mashing his fists. If Stan didn't know any better, he'd think the kid was slightly disappointed.

"Don't ever think that kind of stuff is your fault," Stan said. "It isn't right to blame yourself when someone tries to take advantage of you. So, just let me say it outright: I'm sorry, Butters."

Butters kept mashing his fists, but raised his eyes to meet Stan's face.

"A-apology accepted," he said quietly. His face bore a small smile.

They were both silent for a while. Their teacher wrote some problems on the board, related to the weekend's homework. Stan stared at them before remembering that they hadn't been able to do any work together.

"Uh, Butters? Do you have the homework?"

Butters bit his lip again and shamefully opened his notebook. The header said "Page 15, #1-7" but besides that and the date there was no work.

"I-I think we need to do it tonight," the blond suggested. "I-I didn't get to finish it…"

Stan furrowed his brow.

"You're saying you don't mind coming over my house again? After what happened?" He was off the hook for this too easily. Butters shouldn't forgive people so quickly.

The blond tapped their bench and flicked a fragment of eraser off his notebook absentmindedly.

"W-well, my parents aren't h-home tonight, so you can come over to my place to do it," he glanced up at Stan and then quickly back down to his notes. "A-and Friday night w-wasn't… so bad."

Stan blinked. So Butters likes getting raped. Good to know.

_Viable option… my ass?_

_

* * *

_

Because they didn't hand in their work during class, Mr. Hook asked Stan and Butters to stay after for a moment. Butters was really nervous, mashing his fists way over his usual speed limit. Stan pinched his nose; he really wasn't in the mood for a stern talking to, and his partner was clearly not used to getting them..

Surprisingly, Pip and Cartman stayed after as well. Cartman kept rolling his eyes; Pip was glued to his side, strangely. The brunet pushed him away a couple times, but Pip slowly drifted back after each shove. Butters stole a few glances at them and Stan wondered whether he was jealous. But who the hell could ever be jealous of Pip Pirrup? Cartman leaned in closer to the British kid and whispered something in his ear, and Pip flinched away and turned bright red. Butters crossed his arms and stared at the floor.

_Butters_ liked_ Friday night, he's got a crush on Cartman, and he's jealous of Pip. He's got more issues than I'll ever have._

At lunch, Butters sat down nervously next to Stan. Kyle glanced at them and raised an eyebrow, looking smug. Stan resisted the urge to flip him off and just glared at him. The Jew whistled innocently and took a bite out of his kosher meal.

"S-so you can come over my house at five? I r-reckon my folks'll be out by then, and they won't come back 'till nine or later," Butters offered.

Across the table, Kyle spit the apple juice he was drinking all over Kenny, who had been talking about his date Friday night. Stan rolled his eyes. Clearly, his super best friend had been listening in on his convo with Butters and, knowing the whole story, interpreted it as something it was not.

"Yeah, sure dude. I'll make sure to bring everything I need for the HOMEWORK," Stan declared. He shot Kyle a frown and his friend looked at him apologetically. Butters looked confused. Kenny was still cussing as Kyle tried unsuccessfully to wipe him off with some spare napkins.

When he was leaving the school that afternoon, Kyle caught up with his best friend and looked hungry for some kind of update.

"Dude, Butters forgave you that easily? What did you do to him?" he exclaimed, and then nudged Stan in the ribs. "He's falling for you, right? God, that's so cute."

Stan groaned. "You sound gayer than I do. Get yourself a girlfriend, man."

Kyle stuck out his bottom lip. "I can't help it. I always get like this when we talk romance, I'm—"

He was cut off when Cartman suddenly appeared behind them. The larger teen knocked Kyle's hat off his head and put a beefy arm around Stan.

"So homo, have fun with Butters tonight," he said, patting a frustrated Stan on the back. "You guys are cute together."

Kyle quickly collected himself and started another bitch fight with Cartman.

"Don't be a douche just because you didn't get the partner you wanted, fatass!"

"Ay! Pip does all the shit for me, it's great. He didn't finish when he came over Sunday night but—" Cartman's arrogant smirk faded. "Aw, shit."

Kyle pointed triumphantly. "Ah ha! I knew there was no way you got a blowjob Sunday! Stop making up stories, lardass, they only make you look even more pathetic!"

Cartman ran his finger through his hair and gave Kyle a weird look. "Yeah, whatever."

Stan hardly paid attention to the exchange. He focused in on what would happen that night with Butters. He didn't think they'd have another make-out session, but he was concerned that the blond didn't seem to be bothered by it. Stan had made it perfectly clear that it wasn't right of him to act like that, and Butters wasn't even fazed. It worried him.

* * *

Stan shifted uncomfortably and breathed warm air on his hands to heat them up. The walk to Butters' house wasn't that long, but the wind chill from the weekend was as bad as ever, and he wasn't wearing a scarf as he stood outside the Stotches' front door. He noticed that the garage door was closed, and hoped that meant Butters' parents were out.

"O-oh, shucks, come on in, Stan!" Butters cheeks flushed with excitement. He motioned for Stan to come with him to his room, and they both ascended the staircase. Stan kept his head down somewhat. He really was bothered by how easily Butters forgave him. The little blond must have realized that Stan probably had twice his muscle mass, and he was still inviting him over when his parents were out. The black-haired teen adjusted his sportsy backpack on his shoulders and followed Butters into his room.

"Here we are!" Butters said, throwing his arms up in an attempt to show off his room. Stan eyed the bed, where he saw a line of stuffed animals sitting like an audience. A hairbrush lay on the blond's desk. Stan let himself smile slightly and looked at Butters incredulously.

"Dude," he sniggered. "Were you singing to your stuffed animals?"

Butters said nothing, but stiffened his back and moved to shove the toys off his bed.

"W-well, I-I mean, they've only ever got nice things to say 'bout my perfomances," he mumbled. Stan thought that Butters really did blush much too often. It made his eyes look bluer and wider, though, which was sort of nice.

Stan couldn't help himself from teasing the small teen.

"What song did you sing them?" he taunted. Butters looked at his iHome out of the corner of his eye, and made a dash to it to retrieve his iPod. Stan, being one of the school's star athletes, obviously made it there first. The music player was paused on "So What" by Pink. Stan couldn't stop laughing, and Butters stood there embarrassed with the edges of his mouth turned up ever so slightly, until his chemistry partner was done.

"Whew," Stan laughed, wiping a tear from his eye and glancing up at the uncomfortable blond. "Well, now I think I'm actually ready to do the work."

He sat on the floor and waited for Butters to join him. The two got out their books and set to work.

"I already read the section," Butters explained. "So I know how it all works."

"I just don't get when we start adding the d's and f's to the electron diagrams," Stan said. "Why does 4s come before 3d? The 3d shell should be filled before 4s, since it's in the ring closer to the nucleus, right?"

"Well, once we get out that far, there's such a small difference in the energy level of the two that the electrons just kinda gravitate to the 4s first. If that doesn't really make sense," he pulled out his periodic table, "then you can see that the s's are these first two columns, and there's the 4s before the 3d."

Stan rubbed his chin and carefully studied the table.

"…Yeah, ok. That makes sense." He blinked and pointed at Butters with his pencil. "You don't stutter when you explain stuff. That makes it easier to understand." He meant this as a passing comment, but when he faced Butters again, the other teen was positively glowing. Stan rubbed the back of his neck and turned back to the page. Really, way too forgiving. "So, uh, we just answer these questions?"

"Y-yeah, we do one through seven! I-I can do 'em all, if you don't want to…"

Stan set down his pencil and sighed.

"Look, dude, you've really got to stop with that. It makes me feel guilty."

Butters' eyes widened and he almost looked hurt.

"W-what?"

"Don't offer to do everything for people. It doesn't make you look nicer, it makes you look like a pushover. I'm kinda weirded out by how fast you forgave me for Friday night, too," Stan said. If they were going to keep working together, Butters needed to understand this. "And even though I told you it wasn't your fault, I bet you still sort of feel like it is. Right?" Butters looked away. "Don't do that. It's like, if we make out again I'm still gonna feel like I'm taking advantage of you."

_So that's why I got so upset over it. Aw, dude, I'm such a faggot._

Stan took a deep breath and decided to roll with it.

"I know if I do something you don't like you won't stop me this time, because now you'd feel bad or something 'cause you'd be over the shock from last time. You can't let people do whatever they want to you. It made me feel like a bad person, sort of. Like, it really bothered me. So don't do that."

He reddened slightly and crouched over the textbook, scribbling the answers to question number one.

_Fuck Kyle for always being right._ He could see the redhead gloating in his mind.

Butters didn't respond. Stan kept scribbling and drawing the little boxes in his electron diagram. 1s, 2s, 2p, 3s… Shit, it was hot in here. The heat must have been turned up before Stan came over.

_Say something, you dumb blond!_

The dumb blond didn't say anything.

Stan realized the situation needed to be salvaged. He patted his thighs, stood up, and walked over to his backpack. He fished around in the front pocket and took out his iPod; he made his way to Butters' iHome and yanked out the other music player, replacing it with his own. He cleared his throat.

"Let's get some good music in here. No more of that pop music bullshit."

Stan made it a point at school never to discuss his musical tastes. He didn't think being a music snob was the straightest thing ever, and all the sports guys just listened to, what, whatever rap was one the radio? Stan had always been more of an indie type of guy.

Good thing Butters already knew he was about as straight as a boomerang.

He scrolled down his music list and picked out a full album to listen to. When it started playing, he saw Butters jump as the ten second 'Horn Intro' came on, and chuckled to himself. Modest Mouse's 'Good News for People Who Love Bad News'. Where can you go wrong? 'The World At Large' started up, a nice slow song. Stan felt himself relaxing. Modest Mouse can do that to a person.

"This is a quality album, dude. 'Good News for People Who Love Bad News'."

He settled back into his seat with Butters, who was now looking at him curiously. Stan pointed to the second problem. "Your turn." The childish blond nodded and turned his attention back to the notebook.

Stan took the opportunity to study his partner. Those electron diagrams take a damn long time to draw. He settled his chin in his hand and started thinking that Butters really did look like a complete girl. The way he grasped his pencil, and how his hair fell slightly over his eyes when he leaned forwards. His torso was slender and his crossed legs were long and thin.

Was it ok for him to think of Butters like this? Kyle said it was. He said it was fine to think of Butters as a viable romantic option. But, really? Fragile little Butters? He looked so breakable, and he was so gullible. He didn't want to have Butters as his toy, which could easily happen. The blond was just so willing to be anyone's, if they showered him in praise and respect. He wouldn't care whether it was true or not. Stan wondered, would he be able to completely avoid taking advantage of this person?

He wasn't in love with Butters. He thought Butters was attractive, and he knew Butters was gay. If Butters was so willing to fall for him, and Stan wasn't in love, would that be… alright? To just have a relationship.

No, of course it wasn't. What was he going to do, march hand in hand down the hallways with his new faggy boyfriend? It can't be that easy.

"U-um," Butters said. "I-I finished the second one."

Stan let the thoughts leave his mind and filled the empty spaces left behind with the orbital diagram of Uranium. That one was a hard motherfucker.

They were halfway through "Float On" when Stan started the third problem. When he'd finished, 'Bury Me with It' was starting and Butters was about to draw the fourth diagram.

"Wait," Stan stopped him. "I'll do the next one. Just listen to this song. I really love this song."

Butters complied. He was silent for a while, then he mumbled something at the song's halfway point. The atmosphere in the room had settled into something much more comfortable, and warmer. Familiar music notes and repetitious chemistry problems were making Stan feel at ease.

"Hm?"

"I-I said, they say the name of the album. In the song. It's 'Good News for People Who Love Bad News', right? Y-you said so."

Stan smiled and laughed softly. "Yeah, that's right."

Butters listened intently, his eyes fixed on the space in front of him. He foot moved lightly with the beat. Stan finished the fourth problem just as it was ending. 'Dance Hall' started up.

"Did you like it? The song, I mean."

Butters pulled the sleeves of his white button down shirt further over his wrists and smiled shyly.

"Y-yeah, it was awfully nice. I like this album."

"Good. Your turn for the fifth one."

The two of them worked in silence for the rest of the problems. The fifth was Chlorine, so Butters finished it fast. Stan was glad because that meant the other teen would get to listen to 'The View', one of his favorites on the whole album. When they finished the sixth and seventh, they were near the end of 'Blame it on the Tetons'. Neither of them knew what to say. Butters, being rather obsessive compulsive, closed the notebook and text and stacked them on top of each other.

Both of them sat there, half-listening to the music and half-wondering what the other was thinking. Stan checked the time on his phone; about half past six.

"I can stay for a bit longer. The album's not finished."

Butters quietly confirmed that he was indeed allowed to stay. Stan wondered if the blond thought it was crude when the song kept repeating 'fuckin' around'. When the beginning of 'One Chance' started, Butters moved his foot more than usual.

"You like this one? It's really great, you know," Stan said, wanting to break the slight tension he felt between them. "I think it's about somebody being trapped, knowing that this is the only life they're going to live. They have all this stuff they really love, their friends and family, and they don't want to take the chance to do something they really want to do because they're afraid of losing everything they love. But they're stuck, because they know if they don't do what they want now, they don't get another chance." Stan realized he was slightly out of breath. He didn't really like turning his thoughts into words like this; it made him feel weird, almost naked.

"T-that makes sense," Butters agreed. "But I think, they're also saying how lucky they are to have such great things in their lives when they only have one chance. It could have turned out so much worse. Even though they might not be doing what they absolutely love, and they would have to make sacrifices, they've got a real nice life as is. So, they're kinda thankful, I s'pose." Butters' face just barely reddened. Stan was glad he wasn't overreacting to anything; they were both sort of nervous.

He wasn't stuttering when he said that. Stan guessed that he really did like the album.

They both fell silent, and realized that the music had stopped; they had talked through most of the last song, and sat there for the rest of it. Butters twiddled his thumbs slowly, and they both sort of basked in the peace.

"So," Stan said, suddenly smirking. "Are you going to sing any of those songs to your stuffed animals? 'Cause I really think they would like 'Float On'."

Butters playfully nudged him in the arm and giggled lightly. After a moment of indecision, the blond stood up and walked towards the iHome, then chose another song to play. Stan swore that Butters looked sly for a minute there, when 3OH!3's 'Double Vision' came out of the speakers: the skinny teen was leaning back on his desk, and he narrowed his eyes slightly as he spoke.

"I guess 3OH!3 doesn't count as pop music b-bullcrap?"

The way he censored what Stan had said, replacing his cuss with bullcrap, was pretty damn cute. The way he lowered his eyelids and propped himself up against the furniture was almost sexy.

Stan stood up and crossed his arms, pretending to pout.

"Give me a break, man. 3OH!3 is, like, an addiction."

He wondered briefly if Butters was checking him out, and he started dancing embarrassingly, doing some sort of cross between the Macarena and the Electric Slide. Butters laughed and bashfully covered his smiling mouth with his hand. Stan smiled and laughed at himself, thinking that he must have looked completely ridiculous.

"Come on, dude, don't let me be the only one on the dance floor," Stan pleaded, grinning. He grabbed Butters by the wrist and dragged him into the middle of the room. "Here, just fling your arms out like this, and then stomp your feet," he lectured, knowing full well his style of dancing was a bastardization of any actual moves. Butters laughed again, not covering his mouth this time, and slowly swayed to the music. Stan circled him, snapping his fingers and pretending to be absorbed in the beat. Butters kept swaying, rubbing his right arm timidly with his left hand.

When Stan came full circle and was facing the blond again, he realized what he'd actually been doing. He was flirting with Butters. It was a really weird feeling, coming to terms with thinking that yes, he actually found Butters attractive. And he wouldn't mind being with him. Maybe.

Stan stopped being so overdramatic and started swaying gently, just like Butters was doing. He moved slowly so their faces were close and, still rocking his body, placed a hand on Butters' lithe hip. Neither stopped dancing and Butters carefully reached over to intertwine his hand with Stan's free one.

"Y-you're a g-good d-dancer," Butters managed, breath warm on Stan's face. "Y-you look good dancing, r-real confident…" His long fingers shook faintly. Stan waited patiently for Butters to place them on his cheek, cupping it in his hand.

"You just look really cute," Stan said quietly, and he leaned in so their mouths met. If last Friday night was a kiss, tonight was a tender touching of the lips, pure and romantic. Stan wrapped his arm around Butters' waist, releasing his hand and pulling them closer together. He opened his mouth and Butters smoothly ran his tongue around Stan's. The larger teen let the blond do whatever he wanted. Stan just held him close and only let go when Butters moved back.

They separated slowly, and all at once Stan's euphoria disappeared as he felt like he was doing something very, very wrong. He felt a familiar pain at the back of his head remind him that he couldn't be doing this. Kyle accepted him, of course he did, they were best friends. If the rest of the school found out? He'd be done for. He felt compromised; he couldn't play football and make out with Butters on the side. He backed away, widening the gap between the both of them. He started to sweat.

"Don't you… Like Cartman?" If he could convince Butters that this wasn't what he wanted, he wouldn't even have to make a decision.

Butters blushed deeply and smiled up at him.

"I… I'm trying to give up on him. E-Eric… isn't gay," the blond breathed.

The pain was getting worse.

_Not like you, Stan. Not like the guy flirting with the school's biggest fairy. You're so obvious. So fucking obvious it hurts._

"I've gotta go." He must have looked ridiculously freaked out, because Butters' brow furrowed with concern.

"Wuh, why? My p-parents, they won't—"

"I'm late for, uh, something." He clumsily gathered his notebook and backpack, waving good-bye over his shoulder. He didn't want to see the crestfallen Butters he was leaving behind. "I'll, uh, see you at school?"

"O-oh. Oh, okay."

Stan jogged down the stairs and sprinted out the front door, wiping his lips off with his sleeve. Immediately after he hated himself for rubbing that sensation away, then he cursed himself for wanting it to stay. He didn't know what he wanted.

Two blocks away he realized he'd left his iPod in Butters room. He stopped dead in his tracks and angrily threw his hat into the snow. He ran his hands through his dark black hair and stomped hard on the ground, and then he yelled as loud as he could.

"FUCK!"

* * *

**Oh, Stan. Tsk, tsk. Anyway, I just wanted to mention that I picked 'Double Vision' because it's not really a romantic song, just a random one. I always thought if they're gonna be acting on impulse like this, their 'song' wouldn't necessarily be super romantic. Thanks for reading. :)**


	5. Make a New Plan, Stan

**Hey guys, how's it going? Yeah, yeah, I know I don't ever respond to my reviews anymore. But I really do appreciate them. Think of it this way: I could take time out of writing my story to respond, or I could just upload more chapters. Yeah. Anyway, please enjoy. I like this chapter a lot. ~CrisisOmegs**

* * *

"…Hey. Hey. … HEY!"

"W-what?"

"Start on the fourth fuckin' problem. You didn't even need to come over, couldn't you do this on your own? Jesus Christ. Stop daydreamin' and get to work." Cartman took another sip out of his drink, Dr. Pepper this time, and rolled his eyes.

Pip exhaled heavily and began drawing out the electron diagram for the fourth problem. He was nervous. He sat in the Cartman family kitchen, in a cheap chrome chair that was probably as old as Eric was. The linoleum underfoot was bumpy and uneven after being trampled for years. And he'd recently exchanged sexual favors with the person across from him.

He wanted to come over Eric's house because he wanted the brunet to grab him by the waist and tell him they should be together. He remembered how he felt after Sunday night. He'd clumsily pulled up his pants and Eric went to the fridge to get himself another soda. He hadn't asked Pip if he was thirsty.

"_E-Eric?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_What does this make us?"_

"_Huh?"_

"_What are we now? F-friends, or…"_

"_Pfft. Pip, nothing's changed."_

"_What?"_

"_This type of shit, it doesn't count. Pick up your gay little messenger bag and do the homework yourself. It's your fault we didn't get to finish."_

"… _Right-o."_

So Pip was back again, ashamed and confused. He'd stuck by Eric's side during school, as much as he could. Sunday night hadn't been magical, and it hadn't been romantic. It was fifteen minutes of getting off on the cheap thrills Pip felt from one-upping Butters for the first time in his life. If he stayed by Eric, maybe the magic would get there eventually. Pip really, really wanted it to. How could it have been so meaningless?

"Pip, do the fucking problem." He felt Eric's strong arm over his shoulders. "Unless…" The brunet raised his eyebrow, silently suggesting a repeat of Sunday. Pip didn't really want to. He hadn't felt the magic. But if they did it again, maybe he would. And if he said no, what if Eric stopped asking? He twirled a piece of hair between his fingers. Maybe Eric would want something more. If he could just keep going like this, Eric would definitely want something more. They would start dating, and become boyfriends, and…

"But if we do, you still have to finish the homework on your own, Brit."

Pip felt a squeeze and looked up to see Eric eyeing him hungrily. Maybe it didn't matter if he felt the magic or not. Besides, they weren't going all the way.

This type of shit, it doesn't count. Right?

* * *

Butters leaned against his desk again, peering over at his iHome. It still held Stan's iPod, but the music wasn't playing and the room was silent. His parents had come home. Usually he would sit in the living room, hoping they would greet him as they entered the house, but he didn't feel like being particularly pathetic today.

He didn't understand why Stan had left. It had been so right, everything he was doing. The tall, strong, dark, handsome Stan had just picked up his backpack and left. But Butters couldn't be sad for long; the iPod was right next to him, a physical reminder of what just took place.

He lightly touched his lips and felt warmth spread throughout his body. He'd seen hundreds of romantic comedies and even read a few teen romances, but nothing had ever given him this feeling before. When Stan had let him place his hand on the taller teen's cheek, even though Butters thought his hands were awfully cold. When Stan's arms encircled him and pulled him into a gentle embrace, all while their lips were held firmly together. Butters' first true act of passion, that's what it had been, and how he would remember it.

He took the iPod in his hands and turned it on. As the light illuminated the screen, his thoughts suddenly turned to Eric, and what he would think about this. About Butters falling in love.

Oh, god. He was falling in love?

He felt his heart grow lighter and sighed contentedly. His eyes drooped amorously as he gazed at the music player. He inserted a pair of his own ear buds into it and scrolled through the list until he found what he was searching for. He heard the beats of the song Stan had kissed him to, and the melody surrounded him. He lay back on his bed and placed the iPod over his heart, holding it there, wondering whether his heartbeat would sync up with the rhythm. When the song was over, he played it again. Then he reached under his bed and dusted off his old journal. It was filled with childish doodles of smiling Erics and Butters', holding hands in meadows or flower fields. He turned to a fresh page and grabbed a pink gel pen from his bedside table. A dopey smile spread across his face and he rested his chin in his left hand as his right wrote in large, decorated cursive.

_S.M. + L.S. 4EVER 3_

_Leopold Marsh_

_3 Stanley & Leopold Marsh 3_

He drew hearts and roses haphazardly wherever there was free space. On the back of the page, he spent at least an hour doodling a picture of Stan hugging him, with a speech bubble coming from Stan's mouth saying: _You're so cute_. In the page's margin, he drew an arrow towards the picture and wrote: _This really happened!_

He sighed happily again and retraced his words. The ink was heavy and it made an impression on the paper, seeping onto the other side.

_**This really happened!**_

_**

* * *

**_

Stan fell asleep on the car ride to school the next morning. Kenny watched disapprovingly as a puddle of drool started forming on the ancient plush seats, and he slapped his friend across the face. Stan woke, startled, and rubbed his eyes.

"You look like shit, dude," Kenny said. He turned down the radio, signaling the beginning of an honest to god conversation. Stan eyed him cautiously.

"Uh, yeah. I feel like shit," he responded. He pinched his nose, head suddenly pounding.

"You and Butters stay up late smooching?" Kenny laughed. Stan wondered how the fucking idiot always managed to say blunt and offensive things without sounding malicious.

"Um, no, fuck off with the gay comments," Stan rolled his eyes. He rested his hand in his chin and propped his elbow up on the car door. He let his eyelids close but when he snuck a peek at Kenny, the blond was still watching him. Puckering his lips in a caricature of a kiss.

"No fucking way," Stan gasped. "Kyle didn't—"

"Oh, but he did," Kenny winked.

_That fucking idiot._

"Holy shit, what the fuck. I'm gonna burn his motherfucking house down, that son of a bitch, he—"

"Whoah, calm down there, cowboy," Kenny joked. His eyes were fixed on the road but they were still twinkling as he laughed. Stan thought that if Butters was ever hot, then Kenny was always dynamic.

_Butters._

Stan groaned and placed his head in his hands. He was so stressed out, he felt like he was in a pressure cooker. His chest felt tight and in spite of his macho attitude he thought he might cry. Which in turn made him hate himself even more, which in turn made him want to cry harder. Vicious fucking cycle.

Kenny clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

"Hey man, I don't really give a shit, but I understand why you want to hide it from other people." He made a right hand turn. "You must have been really relieved when Kyle told you he was fine with it. I can't even imagine how fucking terrible it must have been to have nobody to talk too. But now," he jerked a thumb towards himself, "You've got resident sex guru Kenny McCormick for all your homoerotic relationship needs."

Stan turned to face the 'resident sex guru' with tears in his eyes. He was not in the mood for jokes. Kenny quickly apologized.

"Sorry," he mumbled, grabbing the wheel. At least he knew when to stop.

Stan sighed and leaned back in his seat. He rested his forearm over his eyes and decided to be honest.

"Hey, Ken."

"Hm?"

"How am I supposed to keep doing this?"

" … What do you mean?"

"Like, I'm playing football. I watch shitty action movies all the time. I just went on a date like, two weeks ago. With a girl."

"Yeah, that last part confused me, too."

"Just listen and keep your damn mouth shut, okay?"

"…"

"So, how do I keep going? Me and Butters, we kissed again last night. Wipe that goddamn smirk off your face, Kenny. We kissed, and it was almost romantic. I played a fucking album for him, for god's sake. I can't be manly and gay at the same time. It doesn't work that way."

Kenny was quiet for awhile. The usual pop music floated around them; the car somehow seemed empty when Britney Spears wasn't crooning her heart out at full volume, though. Stan pulled at his seatbelt anxiously. He shouldn't have even asked. Kenny was the last person who knew anything about being gay. Stan resigned himself to the silence.

Then, Kenny pulled back his fist, and punched him square in the jaw.

"OW! WHAT THE _FUCK!_ I'm gonna beat your fucking face in, you stupid—"

"There you go."

Stan angrily rubbed his sore jaw.

"Fuck you Kenny, what the fuck was that all about?"

Kenny smiled smugly.

"You know, if I'd just done that to a girl, they probably would have run off crying."

"Kenny, my jaw fucking _hurts_!"

"Hear me out. You felt really angry after I did that, right?"

"No shit."

"If a girl got angry at me for that, she wouldn't beat me up. Well, probably not. And if she did, she must be relatively masculine. Stan, you play football. You beat other guys up on a field for fun. You watch action movies all the time to put up a front, sure, but I know you _like_ most of them. That's 'manly', right?"

Stan nursed his jaw and lowered his head. Kenny sighed and continued.

"You can fuck Butters silly, move to California, and march in gay pride rallies before going back to your job as an interior decorator," he said, "OR you can fuck Butters silly, play for the Denver Broncos, and stop by a bar for a beer with your friends before you go home to watch 'The Fast and the Furious'."

"… So either way I still have to fuck Butters silly."

Kenny snapped his fingers excitedly and grinned.

"Exactly! Because you're gay! That's the one thing you can't change about yourself, and it's not your fault. But you can choose between baking cookies and playing poker, that's your choice. You don't have to _be_ a complete pussy just because you don't _want_ any."

Stan smiled lightly and took his hand away from his jaw. He let the dull throbbing sink in as Kenny parked in the school's lot. Stan had to give it to him; the silent kid from elementary school had turned into one hell of an orator. And his points actually made sense. Stan had always been absorbed in the stereotypical definition of manliness, and he always strived for it. He _was _playing football, he _didn't _run away from a fistfight, and he_ was _gay. It seemed too simple to be able to decide how he acted when the stigmas of gaiety were constantly ridiculed by everyone at Park County High, and gay people always seemed to abide by them. Stan clenched his hand into a fist and smiled. Maybe it was a start.

"Hey… Thanks, Kenny. Oh, and dude?"

"Yeah?"

Stan punched him hard across the cheek, making sure Kenny saw stars. The blond swore under his breath and reeled from the blow, but turned to face his friend, grinning. He laughed and put a hand to his cheek.

"Shit, man. If _you're_ a pussy, _I_ must be one giant vagina," he chuckled.

"Real eloquent, Ken," Stan smirked.

As they got out of the car, he felt the back of head curiously and realized that Kenny had hit him so hard, the needle had been knocked from his brain.

* * *

Chemistry.

Pip was over with Cartman, fumbling with their test tubes while Cartman periodically yelled at him for fucking up. Pip only continued with a more determined expression.

Kenny was pointing over to where Wendy and Powder were sitting, and he was talking about breasts. It's easy to tell, because he held two cupped hands in front of his chest. Craig shrugged, his hands in his pockets, while he inspected the girls disinterestedly.

Kyle spewed intellectual facts out at Jimmy, who politely nodded in response. The redhead ran his hands through his hair and smiled wide as he pointed to the book.

And Stan stood, drumming his finger on the bench, and Butters hummed contentedly sitting at his stool while he measured out the necessary amount of chemicals.

_What. The fuck._

The kid wasn't even fazed. He didn't act weird or nervous, or even hurt when Stan walked in the room. He waved excitedly and set to work on the lab. Stan was confused. When he'd left Butters' house so abruptly last night, hadn't he completely ruined the seemingly romantic atmosphere?

"Um," he started. "Remember last night?"

Butters sighed dreamily.

"Yes," he breathed. Stan gave him a weird look. Oh. Butters remembered_ that_ part pretty well, apparently, just not the part after.

"Well, I'm sorry that I walked out really fast like that. It wasn't really cool of me. And I left my iPod there," the black-haired teen finished awkwardly. He always had to bring it back to himself, of course, and what he wanted back. What a douche.

"Oh, that's fine," Butters giggled. "I c-can give it to you if you come to my locker after school." He beamed at Stan, who swore Butters just batted his eyelashes. Like, in a flirtatious way.

Before Stan knew it, the blond had rested a soft hand on top of his own, while casually taking notes. Stan looked at the teen, flabbergasted, and Butters blushed. It was a quiet, contented blush and Stan knew what was going on. Butters didn't feel any tension because the blond didn't think there was any.

_Butters thought they were dating._

The firmly in-the-closet teen roughly pulled his hand away and grabbed Butters' attention.

"Hey," he said harshly. "We can't do that here. Understand?" The smile dropped off Butters' face.

Fuck being in control of your masculinity; that was a completely separate issue from being shunned from any and all social circles he belonged to. Years of self deprecation and denial wouldn't be fixed by a single blow to the jaw. Kenny had literally knocked some sense into him, but coming out to the entire school was a still long ways off. If Stan wasn't careful, he'd lose the little faith he had gained in himself from Kenny's pep talk, and another needle would be shoved through his skull, deeper than last time.

"I'm s-sorry," Butters murmured. He looked miserable. But Stan couldn't let up. Butters needed to know what was going on. He placed a strong hand on the smaller boy's shoulder.

"When you give me back my iPod after school, we're going to talk."

Butters silently nodded and Stan felt his chest tighten. Maybe if the blond would put up a goddamn fight for once, he wouldn't always feel like he was kicking a puppy.

* * *

"Eric?"

That fucking British accent. Cartman wanted to put his hands over his ears, lalala, I can't hear youuuu, but he'd look like an idiot and Pip probably wouldn't go away. He tore into his sandwich and glared at the faggot.

"What the hell do you want, Pip?"

The Limey brat shifted uncomfortably, holding his food tray like a waitress. It had been debatable at first, but Pip really was the faggiest fag around, beating Butters in a landslide victory.

"I was simply wondering if I would be allowed to sit with you for lunch," the blond asked. Cartman saw his muscles tense up. He was good at reading people like that. He waved his hand, uncaring, and Pip dragged over an extra chair. Kenny sat across from them, but his shit-eating grin faded once Cartman stared him down, the obvious message being that he'd better cut the crap unless he had a death wish.

"So, old chap," Pip said, biting into a bagel. "How are you today?"

It went like that. Pip asked him general questions to which he responded with a one or two word answer. The Brit kept talking all through lunch, even though he was nervous as fuck. Cartman saw the way he wiped his clammy hands off on his girly pants. Ugh. And he was trying so hard. He even waved good-bye when the bell finally rang.

Cartman thought it'd be easy to keep Pip off his back. The blond was never confrontational, and the only reason he would want talk to Cartman, who tortured people for a living, would be Sunday night. But the fag sat at the table and tried his best to hold a conversation without mentioning it once. He had to give the Brit some credit; he'd been made out to be an even lamer version of Butters, but Cartman briefly wondered if it was really the other way around, and nobody bothered to take the time to tell them apart. He certainly hadn't. He nearly felt guilty, but not really. It was just really strange.

Besides, it was almost like Pip was trying to be friends with him.

* * *

Stan fiddled with the dollar in his hand, tapping his foot anxiously in front of the vending machine. He saw Cokes and Pepsis and Sprites and Vitamin Water. Vitamin Water. That's pretty gay, right? He hesitated before sliding the money into the slot, pressing D6 and being rewarded by a Vitamin Water Multi-V. He looked it over, rotating it to read the flavor. Good, lemonade. Nice and yellow. It goes with his hair. He's got nice, yellow hair.

Stan quickly inserted another dollar to get his own Coke, then carried the two drinks down the hallway. Butters stood awkwardly next to his locker, brightening up when Stan approached. But he started rubbing his right arm when he remembered that he'd 'misbehaved himself'. Stan gulped.

"O-oh geezus, Stan, I-I'm awful sorry about today," Butters pleaded, eyes big. "I really am, I—"

Stan held out the Vitamin Water and Butters took it obediently. He hung his head and offered up Stan's iPod.

"Thanks," Stan said. He pressed the 'menu' button, but the screen didn't light up. His brow furrowed. Butters blushed, embarrassed.

"S-sorry 'bout that, too," the blond murmured. "I-I listened to it all last night, y'see…"

Stan pocketed the music player and sighed.

"Look, Butters, you now that we're, well," he lowered his voice, "we're not going out or anything, right?"

Butters ran his tongue all along the front of his teeth.

"Y-yeah, I thought so after what you said," Butters said quietly, nearly whispering. Stan had to strain to hear him. "I'm sorry for assumin', too." The blond took a small sip out of his Vitamin Water.

Stan gestured towards the staircase outside of the hallway.

"Let's just walk around outside, okay? And talk about stuff."

Butters nodded earnestly, obviously trying his best to obey so he could make up for his mistakes. Stan turned and started walking, pinching the bridge of his nose.

When they exited onto the school grounds, Stan made sure they found an isolated corner around the back of the school. He leaned up against the brick building and twisted the cap off his Coke. Butters followed nervously and did the same. The feminine teen rolled his tongue around his teeth a second time, and Stan made himself look away. Before he could think about Butters' tongue any more. He cleared his throat.

"Okay, so first off I want to say sorry for Monday," he apologized. "And I want to say that you don't have to worry, because I won't do it again." He took a swig of Coke and his throat stung from the bubbles.

Butters ran his fingers around the side of his bottle, and his tongue curled around his front teeth again. That fucking _tongue_.

"I-I wasn't worried about that," Butters said. He started getting adamant. "I wasn't worried or nothin', c-cause I," his voice quieted again, "I really like you."

Stan mentally flipped out. What does somebody say to that?

_Alright Stan, calm down, he's not confessing his undying love to you or anything, it's just a crush. You've had those before, it's not that big of a deal._

Butters took the taller teen's silence as a go-ahead to continue.

"A-and I think," he persisted, "that you must like me, t-too. Since you kissed me." He stole a quick glance at Stan. "Twice." The blond's tongue kept moving around his mouth like a fucking animal. Stan felt his face heat up. The combination of oblivious tongue-waggling and a dating proposal made his body start a fire in his chest. Thankfully, there was no tightening of the pants. Yet.

Stan held up a hand to shield his eyes from Butters mouth.

"Dude," he said desperately. "You really need to stop that tongue thing. It's really fucking distracting."

Butters gasped and clamped a hand over his lips, so his speech came out slightly muffled.

"Oh, g-gosh, I'm sorry! Well, I-I got dismissed and went to the dentist, see, that's why I wasn't at lunch, a-and then I came back and my teeth are all clean s-so I can't help myself so—"

"Yeah, whatever," Stan interrupted. "Just stop. Please." Butters gripped his Vitamin Water tighter and offered a meek "okay". Kenny's words from this morning rang in his head again, but somehow most of it was blocked out. Only a few words drifted into his mind.

"_You can fuck Butters silly… OR you can fuck Butters silly."_

"You can't like me," Stan said, voice rising. Butters looked up, hurt, but Stan continued. "You just like me because we kissed, that's all. I know it is! You like Cartman! Right?" Stan frantically looked for approval.

"Stan," Butters whimpered, sticking out his bottom lip pathetically. Were his eyes tearing up? Stan Marsh, world's number one asshole. Occupational experience includes kicking puppies; very, very experienced. "Y-you told me not to let people t-take advantage of me," his voice trembled along with his body. "S-so I'm not gonna let you tell me who I like. I-I like _you._"

Maybe he did like Butters. Maybe he liked the way that his hair looked like sunshine when he stood outside because his eyes were the same color as the sky. And sometimes the way he mashed his fists together was endearing instead of annoying. Butters was a boy and willing and gay and Butters was cute. _Butters _was cute.

Butters was _cute._

"I just, I mean, I don't know," Stan breathed and Butters carefully approached him. Stan's arms instinctively twitched, wanting to reach out and grasp Butters and press their lips together. But he stayed rooted to the spot while Butters brushed his upper right arm and then held it lightly.

"I want to kiss you again," Butters whispered. Too much. Too fucking much. Stan's body moved on its own, his head leaning down and his hands grabbing the blond's back and pushing them closer to one another, but while he moved forwards to the face in front of him, before their mouths could touch, Butters spoke again.

"B-but I want to know," the blond begged. "I-I need you to tell me t-that we're gonna be together."

Neither made a move. Stan's breathing was fast and hard, and the tension had literally exhausted him. He released Butters and stepped back. The blond stared at the ground, slowly looking more and more ashamed. He probably thought he was an idiot for even trying.

"Oh my god," Stan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He laughed dryly. "You're a big fucking tease, you know that?" Butters kicked the ground aimlessly, looking down and away. His shoulders slumped significantly.

A part of Stan's body, probably the most reasonable part, said no. And then the rest of him screamed YES. No needle stung his brain.

_I can't keep doing this to myself anymore. It's just not worth it. Three goddamn years. Nothing's gotten any better. Something needs to change._

He covered his face with his strong palms, ran them down his features and inhaled heavily. He held the air there in his lungs for a moment, rushing around. He looked at the blond in front of him, timid, fragile, and the perfect size to fit in his embrace. He hesitated, still. Was he really going to do this? And risk giving up everything, everything starting from three years ago? Then Butters absentmindedly ran his tongue across his teeth again.

Stan didn't love Butters. He didn't want to run away to California and get married. But he needed that _tongue._ And he liked Butters, he really did. The kid was smart and shy, he could be incredibly cute and nice and loyal to a fault. When he rubbed his arm in that one way that he did, Stan wanted to hug him tight. That's enough to start a relationship with. Maybe. Stan clenched his eyes shut.

"Fine. I'll go out with you. One date, that's all I'm promising. For now. I'll call you, or text you, or whatever. I just really, really need to go think."

When he opened his eyes, Butters looked like he was in heaven. He had a hand clasped over his heart and if he had a halo over his head he really would look like a goddamn cherub. His eyes drooped like he was under a spell, and he looked like he was going to melt and leave a buttery smear on the side of the school. Stan hadn't realized he had the ability to make anyone so _happy_. He grinned stupidly and rubbed his nose to hide his smile.

" T-thank you!" Happiness gushed out of Butters in the form of grateful words. "Thank you! S-Stan, I promise, you won't regret it!"

Stan laughed lightly, in spite of himself, and shook his head. He said good-bye, turned, and walked away. Until he was out of earshot, continuous 'thank-you's sounded behind him.

_What the hell have I gotten myself into?_


End file.
